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WOMAN'S    FAITH. 


%  Mt  of  Sou%nt  life. 


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A  8CKSB  m  SOUTHBBN  UTS. 


THE    BEAUTY     , 


WOMAN'S   FAITH. 


%,  Mt  of  $mt\txn  fife. 


•*  Full  many  a  miserable  year  hath  paued — 

She  knows  him  ae  one  dead,  or  woi'se  than  dead, 

And  many  n  change  her  varied  life  bath  knotrn, 

Bat  her  heart  none/' 

Matubin's  Bkktrau. 


NEW  YORK  : 
DERBY  &  JACKSON,  119  NASSAU  STREET 

CINCIITNATI: — H.    W.    DERBT. 

1857. 


Ektubd  aoeordiac  U  Act  of  CoDgnw.  in  Um  year  IgtS,  by 
J.   C.   DERBY, 
t  CUrk'i  OOu  of  Um  DUtrUt  Court  of  Uw  UaiUd  SUtu,  for  Ui*  Southtni  Dutrict  of  X«w  ToA 


W  H.  Tirnoii,  StOTMtypu.  POD-»r  i.  Ru«««ix,  Prtaur*. 


THE 

BEAUTY  OF  WOMAN'S  FAITH 


CHAPTER    1. 


Near  the  dose  of  a  bright  and  lovely  day  in  the  early  spring, 
some  half  century  since,  a  gentleman  and  lady,  accompanied  by 
their  two  daughters,  might  be  seen  ascending  the  Bayou  Teche,  a 
stream  which  glides  noiselessly  along  through  the  romantic  region 
of  the  Attakapas,  near  the  soutnern  border  of  Louisiana. 

The  scenery  was  wild  and  highly  picturesqie.  Upon  either 
bank  of  this  shaded  rivulet,  the  large  massive  live-oak  stretched 
wide  its  giant  branches,  the  deep,  rich  green  of  its  foliage  con- 
trasting mournfully  with  the  sable  moss,  thaj^  in  graceful  festoons, 
was  hanging,  like  the  drapery  of  woe,  from  the  topmost  limb  of 
the  stately  tree.  The  whole  air  was  perfumed  from  the  blossoms, 
snowy-white,  which  thickly  clustered  upon  the  tall  magnolia, 
standing  side  by  side  with  the  oak,  as  if  in  rivalry,  fit  representa- 
tives of  the  strength  and  beauty  of  nature,  in  her  wildest  magnifi 
cence.  Along  the  banks  of  the  bayou,  the  vine  and  the  jasmine 
gracefully  interlacing  each  other,  were  twining  their  tiny  threads 
aroun<i  the  slender  bay-tree,  as  if  vying  with  each  other,  the  one 
loaded  with  most  delicious  fruit,  and  the  other  displaying  a  grace 
and  beauty  unrivalled,  and  distilling  perfumes  of  the  most  exqui- 
site sweetness.     It  was  a  scene  of  placid  beauty. 


6  woman's  faith. 

The  sound  of  the  woodman's  axe  was  unheard  ;  for  here  were 
no  primeval  forests,  but  a  wide,  unbounded  prairie  stretched  far 
away  beyond  the  power  of  himian  vision,  broad  and  boundless  as 
the  illimitable  sea.  Herds  of  buffalo,  and  the  fleet  and  graceful 
deer,  were  feeding  quietly  upon  the  tall,  rank  grass,  while  here 
and  there  in  the  distance  arose,  like  green  islets  in  a  lake,  thick 
copses  of  the  fir  and  pecan,  tree,  a  welcome  retreat  for  the  travel- 
ler, wearied  with  the  heat  and  burden  of  the  day. 

Such  was  the  scene  which  first  met  the  admiring  and 
astonished  gaze  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Lefort,  and  their  two  lovely 
daughters. 

This  was  the  home  of  their  adoption.  For  it  they  had  given 
up  the  advantages  and  comforts  of  refined  society,  and  bade  a 
final  farewell  to  the  home  and  associations  of  earlier  and  happier 
years.  There  was  something  in  the  air  and  manner  of  Lefort 
most  attractive  and  winning. 

Somewhat  past  the  middle  age  of  life,  his  once  raven  hail 
slightly  tinged,  rather  by  the  vicissitudes  through  which  he  had 
been  called  to  pass,  than  by  the  pencil  of  time,  he  was  a  fine 
specimen  of  the  old  French  nobility.  The  classic  brow,  the  dark 
and  flashing  eye,  the  erect  and  manly  form,  the  grace  which 
marked  every  movement,  assured  you,  that  nurtured  and  edu- 
cated in  the  most  cultivated  society,  he  must  have  been  its  pride 
and  its  ornament 

With  an  ample  fortune,  he  had  been  enabled  to  gratify  every 
desire  of  a  mind,  richly  endowed  by  nature,  and  matured  by  study 
and  reflection.  ^ 

Without  being  an  exact  scholar,  he  had  stored  his  memory 
with  the  beauties  of  classic  literature,  and  his  taste,  naturally 
correct,  received  its  impressions  and  directions  from  the  great 
masters  of  prose  and  song. 

Scarcely  had  the  morning  of  his  life  been  passed,  and  its  noon 
begun,  before  that  frightful  revolution,  which,  like  the  terrible 


A    TALE    OF    SOUTHEEN    LIFE.  7 

sirocco,  passed  over  France,  burning  and  blasting  every  green 
spot  and  beautiful  creation,  that  civilization  bad  loved  and  che- 
rished. It  was  enough  to  have  been  born  of  noble  blood,  to  have 
been  the  heir  of  estates,  or  titles ;  for  this,  the  penalty  denounced 
by  tyranny,  was  an  ignominious  death. 

Amidst  such  scenes,  passing  through  such  conflicts,  deprived  by 
arbitrary  power  of  home,  and  country,  and  fortune,  with  no  hope, 
but  in  flight,  from  unbounded  affluence,  reduced  in  a  moment  to 
the  very  verge  of  penury,  it  would  be  strange  indeed,  if  it  had  not 
wrought  a  change  in  his  whole  character.  There  is  too  some- 
thing in  adversity,  which  softens  the  temper,  and  ofttimes  imparts 
a  charm  and  grandeur  to  character,  surpassingly  strange  and' 
wotderful  to  those  who  have  never  explored  the  depths  of  menial 
philosophy. 

To  those,  who  have  been  tried  in  this  school,  human  existence 
appears  in  its  true  colors,  and  the  diflSculties  encountered,  and 
resisted,  give  strength  and  completeness  to  the  whole  charac- 
ter. 

Like  the  oak  of  the  forest,  which  the  fierce  blast  seems  only  to 
strengthen,  and  around  which  the  lightnings  flash,  and  play"  in 
awful  sublimity,  yet  do  not  consume  it,  so  do  the  sharp  and  fier} 
conflicts,  which  we  are  sometimes  called  to  contend  with,  serve  a 
purpose  most  beneficent. 

With  a  constancy  and  courage,  that  no  power  could  appa* 
Lefort  with  his  confreres,  the  most  elevated  and  gifted  of  the  land, 
men  possessing  the  richest  mental  endowments,  renowned  for  a 
lofty  and  chilvalric  bearing,  vainly  struggled  with  almost  super- 
human fortitude  to  thwart  the  terrible  machinations,  which 
tyranny  was  employing  for  their  destruction.  The  blood  of  the 
nobles  was  to  be  the  seed  of  the  Republic.  Most  of  this  gallant 
band  perished  upon  the  scaffold,  or  by  the  hand  of  some  hired 
assassin.  Others  sought  refuge  in  flight,  and  by  the  warning  of 
some  faithful  dependents,  the  family  of  Lefort  were  enabled  to 


8  woman's  faith. 

avoid  a  terrible  fate,  reserved  for  them  by  those  blood  thirsty 
monsters,  who,  in  their  savage  ferocity,  spared  neither  age  nor 
sex. 

Escaping  from  France,  they  sought  in  England  that  protection 
denied  to  them  in  their  own  country,  and  in  retirement,  and  com- 
parative obscurity,  passed  several  y^ars  of  exile.  Books  were 
their  only  resource.  Father  and  mother  found  their  happiness  in 
the  education  of  Louise  and  Blanche,  imparting  to  them  those 
accomplishments,  which  had  made  themselves  the  ornaments  of 
the  most  brilliant  and  polished  society. 

By  an  acquirement  of  a  thorough  and  accurate  knowledge  of 
the  language  of  the  country,  to  which  they  were  exiled,  they  were 
enabled  to  enjoy,  and  profit  by  the  surpassing  wealth  of  English 
literature,  and  at  the  same  time,  cultivated  successfully  the  beau- 
tiful accomplishments  of  music,  and  painting. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Lefort  forgot,  in  their  charming  daughters,  the 
sorrows  of  exile,  while  hope  pictured  with  the  most  brilliant 
coloring,  some  scene  in  the  future,  though  it  might  be  far  dis- 
tant, and  reached  through  difficulties  the  most  arduous,  when 
they,  taking  their  rightful  position  in  the  high  places  of  society, 
would  be,  from  their  endo-wiuents,  their  accomplishments,  their 
graceful  and  winning  manners,  the  admired  of  every  circle,  the 
cynosure  of  every  eye. 

After  years  of  absence,  embittered  by  the  most  straitened 
circumstances,  amidst  strangers,  far  away  from  all  that  was  dear 
to  them  in  life,  they  were  cheered  with  the  hope,  that  upon  the 
death  of  those  monsters  iji  crime,  who  had  driven  them  away 
from  their  beautiful  France,  and  upon  the  institution  of  a  new 
government,  they  might  return  in  safety  to  their  native  land,  and 
successfully  demand  a  restoration  to  the  honors  and  estates,  which 
for  so  long  a  time,  and  so  unjustly,  had  been  wrested  from  them. 
Year  after  year  they  patiently  awaited  upon  the  vacillating 
conduct  of  those,  who  held  the  reins  of  government,  listening  with 


A    TALE    OF    SOUTHERN    LIFE.  V 

hope  to  the  assurances  held  out,  that  their  rightful  claims  should 
soon  be  fully  recognized. 

But  the  promises  of  to-day  were  to  be  deferred,  or  broken  oa 
the  morrow,  until  at  last,  wearied  and  worn  out  by  the  delusions, 
and  miserable  subterfuges  of  which  they  had  so  long  been  the 
victims,  they  turned  their  eyes  to  the  New  World,  the  natural 
Avealth  of  which,  with  its  unequalled  climate,  was  at  this  time  the 
wonder  and  admiration  of  France,  from  the  glowing  accounts 
given  by  those  who  had  witnessed  its  almost  fabled  magnificence. 

Restoj-ed  at  last  to  some  considerable  portion  of  his  estates, 
Lefort  determined  to  establish  for  himself  and  family,  a  home  in 
that  portion  of  America,  so  exquisitely  described  by  Chateau- 
briand, as  a  land  of  flowers,  with  skies  as  clear  and  bright,  and 
airs  as  soft  and  balmy  as  those  of  Italy,  while  under  its  mild, 
paternal  government,  he  might  enjoy  that  freedom  and  those 
rights  to  which  he  had  so  long  been  a  stranger. 

After  a  tedious,  weary  voyage,  their  eyes  were  at  last  glad- 
dened by  the  long  line  of  coast  stretching  out  upon  the  Gulf  of 
Mexico,  and  with  cheerful  hearts  they  reached  the  spot,  a  faint 
description  of  which  we  have  attempted  in  the  foregoing  pages. 

Thrilling  as  are  some  of  the  incidents  occurring  in  the  every- 
day life  of  those,  who  emigrating  from  the  Old  World,  with  all 
its  attractions,  to  the  wonders  of  the  New,  deprived  of  what  they 
had  deemed  actual  necessaries,  yet  so  often  and  so  graphically 
have  they  been  described  in  the  brilliant  pages  of  romance  and 
song,  that  we  hurry  past  the  adventures  and  trials,  well-nigh 
unendurable. 

Years  had  passed  away,  and  upon  the  banks  of  the  Teche, 
Lefort  had  reared  a  commodious  and  beautiful  cottage,  embow- 
ered in  a  grove  of  the  live-oak,  and  magnolia,  with  the  fig,  the 
peach,  and  the  orange  growing  in  the  greatest  perfection  and 
profusion. 

Surrounded  by  all  the  comforts  and  many  of  the  embellish- 
1* 


10  woman's    FAITH. 

ments  of  life,  in  the  midst  of  a  society,  whose  hospitality  was 
unrivalled,  whose  happiness  was  not  marred  by  the  restless  and 
avai-icious  passions  which  have  too  much  distinguished  the  Anglo- 
Saxon  race,  they  lived  contented  and  happy.  With  a  soil  yield- 
ing an  abundance  of  all  the  necessaries  of  life,  by  labor  put  forth 
as  the  merest  recreation,  while  the  waters  and  the  chase  afibrded 
every  delicacy ;  in  such  a  society,  and  in  the  midst  of  the 
unbounded  affluence  of  this  terrestrial  paradise  of  America, 
years  had  glided  calmly  and  sweetly  away. 

Wisely  had  Lefort  adopted  the  sentiment  of  an  old  English 
emigrant,  "  My  family  is  my  country." 

We  will  reserve  for  another  chapter,  a  description  of  that 
household,  the  abode  of  happiness,  of  calm,  peaceful,  quiet  joy, 
unmarred  by  anxiety,  unmolested  •  by  the  ruthless  hand  of  op- 
pression. 


A    TALE    OF    SOUTHERN    LIFE.  11 


CHAPTERII. 

Checkered  indeed  liad  been  the  life  and  fortunes  of  tlie  family 
of  Le  Fort.  The  dazzling  and  brilliant  spectacles  of  Paris  were 
associated  in  the  recollections  of  Louise  and  Blanche,  with  the 
hideous  yells  of  an  infuriated  mob.  Their  remembrances  of  a 
home,  which  had  been  adorned  by  all  that  wealth  and  taste  could 
furnish,  were  darkened  and  saddened,  as  they  looked  back  upon 
lis  desecration  by  those,  whose  demoniac  passions  could  only  be 
satiated  in  the  utter  annihilation  of  even  a  sentiment,  the  offspring 
of  intelligence  and  virtue. 

Reflections  like  these,  had  lent  a  new  attraction  to  home,  a 
sweeter  charm  to  parental  love.  Trials  and  dangers  had  bound 
them  all  together,  with  those  strong  and  golden  bands,  which 
could  only  be  sundered  by  that  power,  which  none  may  resist. 
Between  the  two  sisters,  the  ornaments  of  that  forest  home,  there 
was  a  striking  and  singular  contrast.  Louise,  the  elder  of  the 
two,  had  now  reached  her  eighteenth  year.  The  vicissitudes,  which 
had  clouded  her  life's  morning,  the  necessity  which  had  com- 
pelled her,  in  the  very  spring-time  of  her  existence,  not  only  to 
depend  upon  herself,  but,  as  far  as  might  be,  to  cheer  and  soften 
the  sorrows,  which  were  pressing  with  leaden  weight  upon  the 
torn  hearts  of  her  parents,  whom  she  loved  with  doating  fond- 
ness, all  imparted  to  her  a  maturity  of  character,  rarely  witnessed 
in  any  one  of  her  sex.  Her  dark,  full  melancholy  eye,  her  brow, 
all  the  features  of  her  face,  finely  chiselled,  as  if  to  realize  the 
dream  of  the  sculptor,  her  glossy  raven  hair,  in  rich  profusion, 


12  woman'sfaith. 

adorning  a  head  faultless  in  its  proportions,  her  neck  and  throat 
full,  and  with  that  perfection  of  form  and  luovement,  so  queeulike, 
a  complexion  dark,  but  brilliant,  all  combined,  at  first  sight  to  win 
the  admiration  of  all  who  met  her. 

Her  bust,  her  figure,  were  as  elegant  as  her  striking  and  lovely 
countenance.  There  was  an  ease  and  grace  in  all  her  movements, 
rendering  her  irresistibly  attractive.  From  early  childhood  mani- 
festing a  passionate  fondness  for  books,  she  had  stored  her  mind 
with  all  that  was  beautiful  and  useful  in  literature,  and  at  the 
same  time  cultivated  her  decided  taste  for  music  and  painting,  in 
both  of  which  §he  might  successfully  contest  for  the  palm  with  all 
but  professional  artists.  Beautiful  as  she  was,  and  thus  highly 
accomplished,  there  was  such  perfect  simplicity  of  character,  that 
entire  absence  of  all  vanity  or  haughtiness  of  manner,  such  an 
evident  and  hearty  desire  to  add  to  the  happiness  of  all  around 
her,  that  she  at  once  became  the  favorite  of  the  circle  in  which 
she  moved. 

A  tinge  of  melancholy,  slight  it  is  true,  softening  the  expression 
of  her  large  lustrous  eyes,  was  so  appealing  to  your  sympathy,  so 
touching  and  so  true,  that  before  you  had  perceived  the  enchant- 
ment of  her  manners,  and  the  brilliancy  of  her  conversation,  she 
had  won  your  deepest  regard.  How  shall  I  attempt  a  description 
of  the  lovely  and  beautiful  Blanche,  the  charms  of  her  person  or 
mind,  so  peculiar  to  herself. 

Her  face,  her  features,  all  changing  with  the  varying  mood  in 
which  you  might  chance  to  find  her.  Buoyant  and  happy  in  her 
disposition,  her  face  ever  wreathed  with  smiles,  she  was  the  light 
and  joy  of  the  household.  She  was  a  blonde.  Her  beautiful 
tresses  clustering  in  golden  curis  and  floating  uncontrolled  over 
her  fair  cheek  and  swan-like  neck,  as  if  unwilling  to  display  her 
exquisite  complexion,  her  deep  blue  eye,  now  laughing  at  her  own 
merry  thoughts,  or  quickly  suffused  by  some  touching  sentiment, 
wag  irresiatibly  fascinating  and  attractive,  while  the  expression  of 


A    TALE     OF    SOUTHERN    LIFE.  13 

her  face  was  so  striking,  so  telling  of  the  emotions  within,  almost 
informed  you  of  her  thoughts  ere  her  lips  essayed  that  office. 

Her  constitution,  delicate  by  nature,  received  a  shock  from  the 
exposures  and  hardships  incident  upon  the  sudden  transition  from 
every  luxury  to  penury,  the  fruits  of  her  father's  banishment. 
She  became,  therefore,  the  petted  child,  and  without  intending  it, 
her  wishes  and  welfare  seemed  first  to  be  consulted.  Although 
not  spoiled  by  indulgence,  it  yet  unfitted  her  to  bear  with  contra- 
diction. 

The  caprices  of  her  childhood  were  overlooked  by  the  partial 
eye  of  doating  parents ;  she  was  permitted  to  grow  up  with  as  little 
restraint  as  possible  upon  her  gay  and  happy  spirit.  The  native 
goodness  of  her  heart  was  a  restraint  upon  her  excitable  temper, 
the  quick  flashes  of  which  would  swiftly  pass  away,  and  be  lost  in 
the  first  exhibition  of  kindness  or  wounded  affection.  Vain  were 
the  attempts  to  describe  tliis  sweet  child  of  nature ;  her  character, 
her  endowments,  mental  and  physical,  as  unfolded  in  the  follow- 
ing pages,  will  be  the  best  and  most  accurate  delineation. 


14  woman's  faith. 


CHAPTER  ni. 

"  And  this  is  to  be  our  home,  the  land  of  our  adoption.  I 
sometimes  fancy,"  continued  Blanche,  "  that  we  are  all  wearing 
masks — at  least,  concealing  from  each  other  our  real  sentiments." 

"  Why  Blanche,  what  do  you  mean  ?"  said  Louise  ;  "  I  think  if  we 
have  any  peculiarities  of  character  or  disposition,  it  is  our  perfect 
frankness,  absence  of  all  concealment.  Do  tell  me  what  yon  were 
thinking  about  or  intended  by  your  remark  ?" 

" Nothing  of  consequence,"  said  Blanche.  "But  do  you  think 
that  father,  whose  life  has  been  passed  amidst  exciting  scenes  in 
the  gayest  and  most  fashionable  metropolis  in  the  world,  and  that 
mother,  who  has  from  her  earliest  infancy  gazed  with  wonder  and 
admiration  upon  all  that  splendor,  and  show,  and  partaken  of  its 
fascination,  do  you  think  that  they  can  be  contented  and  happy 
in  this  calm,  quiet,  secluded  spot  ?  I  have  scarcely  dared  ask  my- 
self, if  I  could  give  up  Paris  for  a  wilderness.  The  very  name  of 
Louisiana  will  awaken  recollections  saddening  enough,  and  I  fear 
that  home-sickness  will  be,  with  us,  a  more  fatal  disease  than  any 
fever  peculiar  to  the  climate." 

"  Oh,  Blanche,"  replied  Louise,  "  you  will  get  bravely  over  all 
these  imaginary  troubles.  You  will  find  resources  enough,  even 
here,  to  make  you  happy ;  you  will  have  books  and  music  and 
out-door  employment,  so  that  each  hour  will  be  agreeably  filled 
up,  and  you  will  have  no  hours  of  ennui." 

"Yes,  I  shall  be  a  perfect  blue-stocking,  and  so  much  time 
upon  my  hands,  that  I  can  commit  to  memory  a  well-stocked 


A    TALE    OF    SOUTHERN    LIFE.  15 

library,  and  practice  music,  until  its  most  delightful  strains  shall 
be  sickening  from  repetition.  I  wish  I  were  possessed  of  a  little 
of  your  philosophy,  or  had  the  faculty  of  finding  pleasure  in  the 
pathless  woods." 

"  How  little,  Blanche,  you  know  of  Louisiana  life,  and  yet  you 
form  your  opinions,  as  if  determined  in  advance  to  be  unhappy» 
Why,  you  told  me  but  yesterday,  you  envied  our  neighbors,  who 
were  all  starting  off,  a  perfect  cavalcade,  with  guns  and  fishing- 
rods,  and  baskets  loaded  with  everything  which  could  tempt  the 
appetite,  as  if  bent  upon  a  rural  frolic.  What  have  we  seen  in 
France,  that  should  make  us  regret  it  ?  Father  and  mother, 
accused  even  of  no  crime,  flying  for  their  lives  with  two  young 
children,  a  price  set  upon  their  heads,  stripped  of  their  property, 
sure,  sure  am  I,  that  such  recollections  disrobe  even  my  native 
land  of  all  charms  in  my  eyes." 

"I  did  not  mean  to  complain  of  my  lot,"  said  Blanche,  "I  was 
speaking  of  the  great  contrast  between  our  home  upon  the  Seine 
and  this  vegetating  upon  the  banks  of  this  wild  bayou,  and  if  the 
comparison  was  unfavorable  for  the  latter,  surely  it  is  no  fault  of . 
mine." 

"  I  have  no  fear,  Blanche,  for  your  happiness.  We  really  are 
incapable  of  judging  upon  a  subject  of  which  we  are  so  little 
informed.  We  will  have  occupation  for  some  time,  in  returning 
the  calls  of  our  kind  and  hospitable  neighbors,  and  when  you 
return  from  your  ride  to-morrow  with  father,  I  expect  you  will  go 
into  raptures  with  the  wonders  you  have  seen." 

"  Blanche,  I  came,"  said  her  father,  "  to  tell  you  I  should  rouse 
you  early  to-morrow  morning,  for  our  promised  ride." 

"  Xot  before  breakfast,  father  ;    I  should  faint  in  my  saddle." 

"  I'll  take  care  of  that,  my  dear.  You  have  no  conception  how 
beautiful  the  prairies  appear,  at  break  of  day.  The  melting  of  the 
dew  upon  the  flowers,  as  the  soft  breeze  of  the  morning  kisses  it,  the 
carol  of  the  birds,  as  if  welcoming  the  earliest  light  of  returning 


16  woman's  faith. 

cay,  tlie  cheerful  face  of  the  herdsman,  as  he  rides  over  these 
boundless  fields,  to  look  after  his  cattle,  are  all  objects  of  interest 
unknown  to  those  who  prefer  remaining  in  their  beds  till  the  sun 
has  journeyed  far  over  the  heavens." 

"  You  are  so  poetical,  father,  in  your  description,  that  I  fear  you 
indulge  the  poets'  license,  and  I  shall  have  to  draw  largely  upon  my 
fancy  to  perceive  the  beauties  you  described  to  us." 

"Well,  try  it  once,  Blanche,  and  if  you  are  not  equally 
charmed  with  the  delightful  panorama,  which  shall  greet  your 
eyes,  then  you  may  set  me  down  as  the  wildest  of  all  enthusiasts." 

At  the  very  peep  of  day,  Blanche  and  Louise  were  aroused  from 
their  slumbers,  by  the  summons  of  their  father. 

"  I  do  dread  this  ride,"  said  Blanche,  "  and  were  it  not  that  I 
should  greatly  disappoint  father,  I  would  tell  him  of  a  headache 
I  feel,  which  unfits  me  for  so  early  an  excursion." 

"I  know  you  will  enjoy  yourself,"  said  Louise.  "Come,  I  will  help 
you  dress,  and  you  must  be  down  in  a  gifly,  for  I  see  father  at  the 
side  of  your  horse,  who  is  pawing  the  ground,  as  if  impatient  to  be 
off." 

Two  hours  had  scarcely  passed,  when  Blanche  came  galloping 
up  the  lawn,  with  a  rosy  hue  upon  her  fair  cheek,  and  bright  smiles 
mantling  her  expressive  countenance  from  the  exercise  of  the 
morning.  She  could  scarcely  wait  to  tell  of  the  pleasure  of  her 
ride,  and  of  the  objects  which  so  delighted  her. 

"  I  can  scarcely  tell  you,"  said  Blanche,  "  how  delightful  was 
our  horseback  excursion,  upon  our  boundless  praiiies.  I  hardly 
believed  father  when  he  described  the  loveliness  of  these  wild 
scenes,  in  the  dawning  of  the  morning,  for  I  thought  it  was  but 
an  ingenious  device  of  his,  to  induce  me  to  take  exercise  before 
breakfast.  But  at  this  early  hour,  the  air  is  so  elastic  arid  bracing, 
and  the  whole  face  of  nature  seems  so  refreshed  and  beautiful,  that 
one  is  amply  repaid  for  the  little  exertion  it  requires,  to  shake  off 
the  power  which  a  morning  nap  possesses." 


A    TALE    OF    SOtJTHERN    LIFE.  17 

"  Did  you  not  feel  exhausted  from  the  effects  of  30  long  a  ride 
before  breakfast  ?"  said  Louise. 

"  Oh,  no,  for  as  I  went  down,  dressed  cap-a-pie  for  my  ride,  father 
had  made,  from  his  little  cafetiere,  in  about  ten  minutes,  a  most 
delicious  cup  of  coffee,  which  was  so  exhilarating,  that  I  chatted 
like  a  magpie  for  miles,  hardly  giving  him  an  opportunity  to  slip 
in  a  word  edgewise  ;  for  with  my  coffee  and  the  bouyancy  of>feeling, 
which  the  galloping  of  my  fleet  little  pony  creates,  I  was  com- 
pletely wild  with  delight.  And  oh,  how  I  wish  I  could  describe  to 
you  those  magnificent  herds  of  buffalo,  which  started  with  such 
stately  steps  at  our  approach,  now  and  then  the  male  leader  of  the 
band  turning  back  upon  us  his  wild  flashing  eye,  and  shaking  his 
shaggy  head,  as  if  half  inclined  to  dispute  our  passage  over  his 
wild  domains.  I  confess  all  the  strength  of  my  courage  would 
have  failed,  but  for  father's  oft  repeated  assurance  of  safety.  He 
said,  '  wi^h  his  unerring  rifle,'  which  always  hangs  at  his  saddle 
bow,  '.he  could  at  a  hundred  yards  bring  down  that  proud  leader, 
when  tb  I  remainder  of  the  herd  would  at  once  seek  safety  in 
flight.'  A.nd  again,  just  as  we  approached  a  little  grove  of  holly 
and,  baj  trees,  we  started  up  a  gang  of  wild  horses,  which  you 
know  abound  upon  the  prairies,  and  such  a  scampering,  tossing  of 
tails,  and  noisy  neighing,  you  never  witnessed,  and  my  little  creole 
rascaJ  seemed  to  have  discovered  some  old  relative  or  acquaintance, 
for  it  requiied  all  my  power  to  restrain  him,  from  dashing  oft 
among  the  swiftest  of  these  nimble  and  beautiful  animals.  But  I 
have  not  time  to  tell  you  a  tithe  of  the  various  objects  of  interest 
which  enlivened  our  most  charming  excursion ;  one  thing  I  can 
assure  you,  it  has  given  me  a  most  excellent  appetite  for  these 
warm  muffins,  and  tempting  rice  birds,  which  I  see  Aunt  Nancy 
has  prepared  for  our  dc'jedner." 

"  Father,  you  will  be  pleased,"  said  Louise,  "  with  the  progress 

Mr.  Mason  is  making  with  our  cottage.     He  is  delighted  with  the 

Ian  you  obtained  in  Paris,  but  proposes  some  alterations,  required 


IS  woman's  faith. 

he  thinks  by  our  climate,  and  the  situation  of  the  ground.  He 
says  Blanche  has  given  him  directions  as  to  the  room  for  the 
library,  which  will  demand  some  changes,  and  that  she  will  pay 
no  attention  to  any  particular  style  of  architecture,  but  it  must 
exactly  suit  her  fancy." 

"  Well  that  must  be  so,  for  when  I  first  talked  of  building,  she 
asked  nie  to  promise  that  she  might  have  the  entire  direction  as 
to  one  of  the  rooms  and  its  furniture,"  said  Lefort. 

"  Supposing  the  little  witch  intended  her  own  sleeping-apartment, 
I  told  him  that  her  whole  wishes,  in  spirit  and  letter,  should  be 
fiilly  obeyed  and  carried  out,  when  clapping  her  little  hands,  and 
kissing  rae  some  fifty  times,  she  exclaimed,  '  The  library  and  its 
fitting  up  are  all  my  own.'  She  had  fairly  caught  me,  and  her 
wishes  must  be  law,  in  regard  to  this  part  of  our  cottage." 


ATALEOFSOUTHERN  1) 


CHAPTER    IV. 

The  predictions  of  Louise  were  now  realized  in  regard  to 
Blanche.  A  change  had  come  o'er  the  spirit  of  her  dream. 
Every  hour  was  fully  occupied.  At  night  she  retired  to  her 
chamber  with  new  plans  for  the  morrow,  and  the  sun  seemed  to 
her  busy  spirit  laggard  on  his  march,  as  she  awaited  his  coming 
to  commence  the  employments,  to  her,  so  full  of  interest.  She 
was  at  the  side  of  the  workmen,  with  plans  in  her  hands,  as  they 
were  laying  out  the  grounds  about  the  cottage,  which  was  now  in 
the  course  of  er,ection,  bidding  them,  by  all  means,  be  careful  of 
injuring  the  old  stately  trees,  which,  for  ages,  had  been  the 
monarchs  of  the  wood,  assuring  them,  at  the  same  time,  that  no 
garden  was  half  as  attractive  as  the  one  already  provided  to  their 
hands. 

The  space  of  ground,  which  was  reserved  as  a  lawn  about  the 
house,  occupied  more  than  a  hundred  acres.  This  enclosure  was 
to  be  left  in  its  natural  state,  the  tangled  undergrowth  merely 
being  cleared  away,  and  to  be  a  safe  retreat  for  the  deer,  the 
rabbit,  and  the  squirrel,  while  the  birds  should  build  their  nests, 
undisturbed,  as  if  the  foot  of  man  had  never  trodden  these  tropi- 
cal regions. 

The  meanderings  of  the  bayou  furnished,  at  the  southern 
extremity  of  this  lovely  lawn,  by  means  of  wicket  gates,  a  pond  of 
clear,  pure  water,  filled  with  fish  of  almost  every  hue,  from  the 
bright  and  glowing  red-fish  to  the  golden  perch.  Walks  were  to 
be  laid  out,  arbors  erected,  and  a  broad  avenue,  overlaid  with 


20  moman's   faith. 

shells  from  the  sea  shore,  for  carriages,  was  to  be  prepared, 
forming  a  pleasant  drive  through  these  shaded  and  picturesque 
grounds. 

"  What  a  pleasant  place,"  said  Blanche  to  herself,  "  will  our 
home  be.  tlie  air  redolent  wiih  the  most  delicious  perfumes,  the 
songs  of  the  birds  awaking  the  morning,  and  hushing  to  sweet 
repose  at  evening  the  weary  children  of  nature,  our  out-door  life 
will  be  most  alluring.  The  cottage,  too,  so  'tastefully  planned,  so 
completely  adapted  to  the  requirements  of  our  climate,  will  ever 
be,  for  us,  a  most  delightful  home.  I  could  not  have  believed, 
when  pouring  my  sad  regrets  into  the  ear  of  Louise,  that  so  soon 
I  should  regard  this  spot  with  so  deep  an  interest.  Father,  too,  is 
so  indulgent  that  I  have  only  to  express  a  wish  to  have  it  com- 
pletely gratified." 

"  What  think  you  now,  Blanche,  about  this  dull,  stupid  life  in 
the  country  ?"  said  Louise.  "  You  seem  perfectly  metamorphosed, 
and  from  your  occupations  and  dress,  might  well  sit  for  a  Flora, 
if  one  were  wanted  to  decorate  the  arbors,  which  you  have  so 
tastefully  planned.  The  only  objects  that  can  vegetate  here  are 
trees  and  plants,  for  yourself,  you  go  over  these  grounds  with  the 
fleetness  of  a  fawn,  scarce  giving  yourself  time  to  eat  or  sleep,  so 
devoted  are  you  to  your  employments. 

"  But  the  novelty  will  soon  be  over,  Louise.  The  gardens,  the 
walks,  the  flowers,  and  trees  will  all  be  arranged  according  to 
my  taste,  the  cottage  will  be  completed,  and  then  must  I  return 
to  my  castle  building." 

"  It  would  be  so,"  said  Louise,  "  if  all  these  grounds  were  not  to 
be  kept  in  order  ;  if  books  and  paintings  would  arrange  themselves 
upon  the  shelves,  and  along  the  walls,  and  all  household  aflFairs 
would  go  on  steadily  and  in  order,  as  if  some  law,  unerring  as 
the  physical  laws,  would  keep  everything  in  harmony  and  at  work. 
But  you  will  find  enough  to  do  in  superintending  those,  to  whose 
care  you  may  commit  all  these  interests,  and  each  evening  you 


A     TALE     OF     SOUTHERN     LIFE.  21 

will  wish  that  the  demands  of  the  day  were  not  so  urgent  and 
pressing." 

"  I  forgot  to  tell  you,"  said  Blanche,  "of  a  call  father  and  myself 
made  yesterday  upon  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Lamotte.  The  house  had  a 
dingy  appearance,  a  queer  and  antiquated  sort  of  Spanish  con- 
struction. I  expected  to  see  some  rickety  chairs,  and  sanded 
floors,  with  ill  concealed  attempts  at  gentility.  Judge  of  my 
astonishment,  upon  the  servant  throwing  open  the  door,  to  be 
ushered  into  a  wide  handsome  hall,  and  then  shown  into  a  draw- 
ing room,  Parisian  in  all  its  furniture  and  decorations.  Every- 
thing, the  large  spacious  rooms,  all  the  windows  extending  from 
the  ceiling  to  the  floor,  the  light  graceful  furniture,  so 
adapted  to  the  climate,  it  was  truly  charming.  And  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Lamotte  received  us  with  such  politeness  and  hospitality,  so 
thoroughly  well  bred  were  they.  I  know  not  when  I  have  met 
with  such  an  agreeable  surprise." 

"  Did  they  speak  of  the  society  about  Oak  Lawn  ?"  said  Louise. 

"Yes,"  replied  Blanche,  "and  assured  me  that  I  should  find  it 
most  agreeable.  The  gay  season,  they  said,  was  over,  but  the 
young  ladies  and  gentlemen  continued  to  amuse  themselves  in 
pic-nic  parties,  yachtings  upon  the  gulf,  and  occasionally  in  large 
companies  upon  horseback ;  partaking  on  their  return,  a  dejeuner 
a  la  fourchette,  a  most  delightful  repast  at  this  season  of  the  year." 

"  From  her  description  of  them  they  must  afibrd  great  amuse- 
ment." 

"Are  they  Americans  in  manners  and  conversation?"  said  Louise. 

"  Mrs.  Lamotte  spoke  almost  entirely  in  French,"  said  Blanche. 
"  Hor  daughter  conversed  Avith  her  mother  in  that  language; 
while  with  us,  she  seemed  to  prefer  the  English.  Meeting  them 
iti  Paris,  you  would  hardly  dream  they  had  been  out  of  France. 
Their  complexion,  their  dark  hair,  their  peculiarities  in  speech 
and  manner,  all  remind  you  of  our  native  home.  The  English  of 
Miss  Lamotte  had  just  the  accent  that  we  find  in  our  best  edu- 


23  woman's    FAITH. 

cated  Parisian  ladies,  who  have  spent  some  time  in  England  to 
acquire  that  language." 

"Each  new  acquaintance  formed,"  said  Louise,  "and  every 
^miliar  scene  assures  me  that  we  shall  be  fully  contented  with 
our  adopted  home.  I  do  not  believe  in  the  proverb,  which  has 
come  down  to  us  from  the  middle  ages.  Nihil  sine  Gallis,  that 
there  is  nothing  outside  of  France,  but  that  we  shall  find  in  the 
wilds  of  America,  as  some  flippant  foreigners  aflfect  to  speak  of 
this  noble  country,  in  character  and  scenery,  in  society  and  occu- 
pation, here,  the  happiness,  which  we  seek.  Father  says,  this  is 
but  a  fair  specimen  of  the  society  which  you  will  meet  in  this 
neighborhood." 

"  Well,  if  he  is  not  mistaken,"  said  Blanche,  "  nowhere  will  you 
find  more  polished  and  agreeable  families.  And  their  hospitality 
is  unbounded.  "  You  are  at  once  received  with  all  the  cordiality 
of  old  acquaintanceship.  They  appear  as  if  you  were  bestowing 
a  favor  upon  them  by  the  visit,  rather  than  conferring  an  obliga- 
tion upon  you.  Their  hearts  seem  to  partake  of  the  warmth  of 
their  climate.  Aflfable,  polite  and  cordial,  you  are  at  once  put 
upon  the  footing  of  old  familiar  friendship." 

"The  fashion  which  obtains  with  them,"  said  Louise,  '*is 
somewhat  trying,  of  expecting  the  first  call  .from  the  new 
comer.  It  must  be  most  significant  if  the  call  should  not  be 
returned." 

"  They  say,"  replied  Blanche,  "  that  it  is  the  more  correct  and 
agreeable,  for  the  stranger  is  not  forced  to  the  interchange  of  civili- 
ties, and  if  entitled  to  attentions  is  sure  to  receive  them.  I  shall 
never  forget  the  kind,  heartfelt  welcome  with  which  we  wefe  met 
upon  our  arrival  here,  entire  strangers ;  their  doors  were  thrown 
open  for  our  reception,  as  if  we  had  been  relatives  of  the  family, 
returning  home  after  a  long  absence.  I  am  not  surprised  at  the 
wide  and  general  reputation  they  enjoy  for  the  most  generous 
hospitality." 


▲    TALE     OF     SOUTHEEN    LIFE.  23 


CHAPTER    V. 

The  cottage  to  whicli  we  have  made  allusion  will  require  some 
more  particular  description  at  our  hands,  as  we  desire  our  readers 
to  become  domesticated  at  Oak  Lawn,  and  thereby  become 
familiar  with  those,  whose  lives  and  characters  are  the  subjects  of 
our  portraiture.  For  with  the  house  and  grounds,  the  taste 
exhibited,  and  the  peculiarities  displayed,  we  naturally  form  our 
opinions  of  those  who  inhabit  them. 

The  wicket-gate,  which  opens  to  the  humblest  cot,  invites  one 
most  winningly,  surmounted  as  it  is  by  the  sweet  woodbine,  grace- 
fully creeping  over  a  little  arch,  which  the  sturdy  beech  had  lent, 
and  through  which  you  look  upon  a  well-swept  walk,  the  care- 
fully tended  garden,  and  the  wee  little  dwelling,  nestling  beneath 
the  vine  and  the  rose. 

You  know  that,  within,  an  industrious  housewife,  neatly  apparel- 
led and  with  a  smiling  face,  throws  a  charm  around  a  happy  domes- 
tic circle,  while  the  very  approach  to  yonder  square-built  house,  a 
burning  sun  pouring  its  rays  upon  its  defenceless  porch,  an  ambi- 
tious gateway  decaying,  ere  it  was  half  completed,  the  unfinished 
well,  telling  you  that  no  cool  water  from  that  source  may  slake 
your  thirst,  all  assure  you  that  a  thriftless  man,  without  counting 
the  cost,  built  that  habitation,  and  that  snarling  .discontentj  and 
squalid  poverty  dwelt  within. 

But  we  must  return  from  this  digression.  In  the  midst  of  a 
beautiful  grove  of  live  oak  and  magnolia,'  upon  a  slight  elevation, 
commanding  a  wide  extensive  view  of  the  prairies,  and  in  sight  of 
a  stream,  which  in  its  graceful  serpentine  meanderings  was  pour- 


34  woman's  faith. 

ing  its  waters  into  the  Gulf  of  Mexico,  Lefort  bad  reared  a  gi-ace- 
ful  cottage,  in  which  were  happily  combined  the  beauties  of 
architecture  with  all  the  comforts  of  a  most  commodious  dwelling. 
In  the  planning  of  the  house  it  was  evident  that  the  exquisite 
taste  of  woman  had  had  no  inconsiderable  share,  for  while 
decoration  and  ornament  was  regarded  as  essential,  scarcely  a 
want  was  unsupplied  in  the  conveniences  afforded  in  this  lovely 
dwelling. 

Occupying,  as  we  have  said,  a  large  space  of  ground,  elevated. " 
some  ten  or  twelve  feet,  a  flight  of  steps  led  to  a  wide,  tasteful 
veranda,  extending  entirely  around  the  house,  supported  upon 
Grecian  columns  of  singular  beauty.  Through  the  wliole  length 
of  this  spacious  dwelling,  a  wide  hall  extended,  furnishing  a  most 
inviting  spot  for  a  siesta  duriLg  the  midday  heat,  open  as  it  was  to 
the  breeze,  and  protected  from  the  rays  of  the  sun  by  embowering 
oaks. 

Blanche,  as  we  have  remarked,  had  the  planning  and  fitting  up 
of  the  library.  This,  to  one  who  had  any  taste  for  letters  or 
objects  of  vertu,  Avas  a  most  delightful  apartment.  It  was  an  off- 
shoot from  the  main  building,  though  strictly  connected  with  it. 
A  wide  hall  leading  from  the  dining-room,  ventilated  and  lighted 
by-  a  sky-light,  the  glass  of  which  was  exquisitely  colored,  and 
along  its  walls  were  tastefully  arrayed  some  beautiful  works  of 
art,  statues  and  paintings,  handmaids  to  the  more  elaborate  pro- 
ductions of  mind,  to  which  they  introduced  you ;  opposite  the 
doorway  was  a  large  projecting  window  opening  upon  the  lawn, 
shaded  by  a  clump  of  orange  trees,  softening  the  light  and  perfum- 
ing the  air  which  it  admitted.  Its  beautiful  alcoves  were  separ- 
ated from  the  main  room  by  .Grecian  columns,  upon  which,  with 
consummate  skill,  some  classical  dence  was  painted,  emblematic 
of  the  subject  discussed  in  the  volumes  there  reposing.  Within 
each  was  a  seat  of  tasteful  workmanship,  and  admirably  adapted 
to  the  comfort  of  the  occupant.     In   the  spaces  between   the 


A    TALE    OF    SOUTHERN    LIFE.  25 

alcoves  .were  tables  covered  with  maps,  books,  of  engravings, 
natural  curiosities,  gathered  from  almost  every  region.  Upon  the 
panels  were  painted  some  lovely  views  of  scenery  upon  the  Seine, 
the  Tuileries  and  the  old  palace  home  of  Lefort  in  Paris,  while 
upon  the  ceiling  were  beautifully  grouped  in  fresco,  dancing  nymphs 
floating  in  azure.  Her  father  had  bidden  Blanche  give  fiill  wing  to 
her  fancy,  and  fit  up  this  bijou  as  she  termed  it,  exactly  to  her 
taste  without  regard  to  expense.  The  furniture  of  the  apartment 
was  in  perfect  keeping  with  the  object  of  it,  with  all  the  larger 
pieces  of  which  there  were  some  interesting  historical  recollections 
or  romantie  incident,  which  Lefort  had  been  enabled  to  find  iu 
Europe.  Upon  the  book-shelves  were  found  the  finest  editions  of 
almost  every  work  in  literature,  and  the  selection  showed  the 
mind  and  taste  of  a  most  classical  and  thorough  scholar.  The 
carpet,  a  dark  maroon  ground  with  bunches  of  flowers  of  most 
brilliant  coloring,  beautifully  harmonizing  with  all  the  furniture 
and  decorations,  manifested  the  taste  which  presided  over  this 
most  fascinating  spot  in  the  dwelling  of  Lefort.  From  the  cam- 
panile or  bell-tower,  in  which  the  highest  taste  of  the  architect 
was  displayed,  the  eye  took  in  the  varied  beauties  of  a  lovely 
landscape,  and  the  white  sails  that  dotted  the  Gulf,  from  the 
majestic  ship  of  the  line  ploughing  her  way  through  the  dark 
waters,  to  the  light  and  graceful  pinnace,  which  danced  upon  the 
crested  wave,  "like  a  thing  of  life." 


SP  woman's    faith. 


CHAPTER    VI. 

At  a  session  of  one  of  the  courts  of  the  parish,  Mr.  Lefort  had 
been  summoned  to  serve  as  a  juror,  and  though  he  had  scarcely 
ever,  during  his  married  life,  been  separated  from  his  family,  as  the 
distance  was  not  very  great,  he  was  rather  gratified  than  other- 
wise, as  a  cause,  which  had  excited  great  interest  and  considera- 
tion throughout  the  neighborhood,  was  to  be  tried,  and  Mr.  Lefort 
was  anxious  to  be  present.  The  court  having  been  organized, 
Mr.  Lefort  was  selected  as  the  foreman  upon  the  jury  about  to 
try  the  cause  of  the  State  vs.  Paul  Eaton,  then  on  trial  for  his 
life. 

He  was  a  missionary  sent  forth  in  those  early  days,  by  that 
most  useful  and  pious  sect,  the  Methodists.  Having  literally 
neither  gold,  nor  silver,  nor  brass  in  his  purse,  nor  scrip  for  his 
journey,  he  was  rich  in  faith,  and  bold  in  the  cause  of  Him,  who 
had  instructed  his  disciples  to  fear  not  him,  who  can  kill  the  body 
only. 

Wherever  Eaton  went,  by  the  way-side  and  in  the  house,  that 
was  worthy,  he  taught  in  simplicity  and  in  truth,  the  words  of 
everlasting  life. 

Bold  and  fearless  in  the  cause  of  his  Master,  he  had  denounced 
the  worship  of  saints,  and  absolution  by  the  priests,  as  unwar- 
ranted by  the  Word,  which  he  preached. 

He  inveighed,  in  unsparing  tenns,  against  the  immorality  of 
men,  who,  by  their  traflBc  in  liquid  poison,  destroyed  boih  soul 
and  body  for  ever. 

Seeing  that  their  craft  was  in  danger,  at  the  instigation  of  a 


A    TALE     OF     SOUTHERN    LIFE.  37 

Jesuit  priest,  and  the  owner  of  a  dram-shop,  a  charge  was  made 
against  him,  and  busily  circulated,  that  he  was  an  abolit>jnist  in 
disguise,  that  he  had  attempted  to  create  an  insurrection  among 
the  slaves. 

He  was  upon  this  charge,  and  upon  false  testimony,  thrust  into 
prison. 

For  this  he  was  indicted.  So  powerful  and  influential  were  the 
enemies  of  Eaton,  and  the  charge  one  which  so  readily  aroused 
popular  indignation ;  so  poor,  and  so  humble  the  accused,  that 
bigotry  and  superstition  felt  sure  of  their  victim. 

Upon  being  arraigned  for  his  trial,  he  was  asked  by  the  judge., 
who  was  his  counsel  ?  He  replied,  "  With  no  wealth,  save  the  riches 
of  infinite  love ;  no  friends,  but  those,  who  in  highways  and 
hedges  have  heard  the  Word  of  life,  and  believed,  vainly  should 
I  have  sought  professional  assistance.  My  reliance  is  upon  the 
word  of  Him,  who,  when  He  sent  me  forth,  bade  me,  when  called 
before  kings  and  governors,  fear  not,  for  it  should  then  be  given 
me  what  to  speak.  I  stand  upon  my  innocence,  upon  the  cle- 
mency and  justice  of  the  court,  the  intelligence  and  integrity  of 
the  jury." 

When  Eaton  sat  down,  William  Burns,  who  as  yet  having  had 
little  opportunity  for  the  exhibition  of  his  abilities,  arose,  and 
announced,  that  with  the  permission  of  the  court,  and  the  consent 
of  the  accused,  he  would  volunteer  his  services  in  his  defence ; 
but  as  he  had  heard  nothing  of  the  case,  had  had  no  opportunity 
for  consultation  with  his  client,  he  would  ask  a  postponement 
until  the  following  day. 

It  was  accorded  him,  and  an  hour's  conversation  with  poor 
Eaton,  satisfied  this  noble  young  advocate,  that  he,  whom  he  was 
to  defend,  was  to  be  sacrificed  for  the  gratification  of  a  most 
malicious  and  vindictive  hostility. 

When  Burns  returned  to  the  hotel,  he  was  at  once  accosted  by 
his  friends,  who  said  to  him,  "Why  do  you  put  at  hazard  all 


■S6  woman's  faith. 

your  future  success  in  your  profession,  by  taking  voluntarily  upon 
yourself  without  fee  or  reward,  the  defence  of  this  strolling 
preacher.  The  evidence  is  clear  against  him ;  it  was  proved 
before  the  committing  magistrate  by  several  witnesses,  that  he 
had,  again  and  again,  been  seen  tampering  with  the  slaves,  and 
that  Eaton  had  told  a  large  afssemblage  of  them,  that  if  they 
would  renounce  all  confidence  in  confessions,  counting  of  beads, 
and  in  the  signs  of  the  cross,  they  should  all  be  free.  Give  up, 
then  this  defence ;  feign  sickness  or  want  of  time  ;  for,  rely  upon 
it,  if  you  persevere,  your  client  will  not  only  be  convicted,  but 
suspected  yourself  of  being  an  abolitionist,  you  will  lose  caste  in 
society,  and  the  avenues  to  fame  and  fortune  will  be  closed  to  you 
for  ever." 

"  You  little  know  me,  Norton,"  was  the  reply  of  Bums,  "  if 
you  think  I  should  be  swerved  one  hair's  breath  from  what  I 
deem  the  line  of  duty,  by  any  consideration  addressed  to  my 
interest.  I  shall  not  prove  recreant  to  the  soil  which  gave  me 
birth  ;  to  the  noble  lessons  which  were  taught  me  in  the  old  Bay 
State  from  my  mother's  knee,  to  feel  an  abhorrence  for  oppres- 
sion. It  is  the  boast  of  the  profession,  which  I  have  adopted, 
that  the  innocent  may  look  up  to  it  with  confidence,  as  its  sure 
and  appropriate  shield.  And  when,  from  sordid  and  unworthy 
motives,  I  shall  fail  to  plead  the  cause  of  the  poor  and  the 
oppressed,  may  my  right  hand  forget,  its  cunning,  and  my  tongue 
cleave  to  the  roof  of  my  mouth."  So  decided  was  the  manner, 
80  lofty  the  tone,  and  so  correct  the  sentiment  of  the  excited  and 
intellectual  advocate,  that  further  opposition  to  his  conduct  in  this 
matter  was  abandoned.  They  hoped  by  the  aid  of  old  and 
experienced  lawyers,  and  by  the  influence  brought  to  bear  from 
the  planting  interest,  and  by  the  large  array  of  witnesses  which 
were  summoned,  they  would  break  down  all  opposition,  and  suc- 
ceed in  convicting  the  accused  of  a  crime  which  would  deprive 
him  of  his  life. 


A     TALE    OF    BOUTHEEN     LIFE.  2^: 

On  the  following  day  the  trial  proceeded.  In  an  opening 
speech  made  by  Cartland,  the  district  attorney,  he  called  upon 
the  jury  to  disregard  all  considerations  but  their  duty  to  the 
State  ;  that  to  their  care  was  committed  the  safety  of  the  institu- 
tions of  the  South.  That  if  from  any  appeals  which  might  be 
made  to  their  sympathies,  or  if  yielding  to  any  sectarian  preju- 
dice, they  should  be  led  astray  from  their  duty  ;  or  if  by  the  well 
concerted  scheme  of  the  prisoner,  who  had  assumed  the  garb  of 
a  missionary,  that  he  might  the  more  readily  gain  access  to  the"  ear 
of  the  slave  ;  if  from  any  or  all  of  these  considerations,  they  should 
fail  in  the  fulfillment  of  the  high  trust  committed  to  their  charge, 
an  amount  of  responsibility  would  lie  at  their  door,  most  fearful. 
No  one  in  the  community  would  be  safe.  An  insurrection  most 
frightful  in  its  consequences,  would  be  the  result.  The  midnight 
torch  would  wrap  in  flames  our  now  happy  and  peaceful  habita- 
tions ;  your  wives  and  your  daughters  would  be  at  the  mercy  of 
an  infuriated,  relentless  set  of  desperadoes.  This,  our  now 
delightful  home,  with  all  the  embellishments  which  wealth,  and 
art,  and  nature  have  crowned  it,  will  be  made  the  abode 
of  wretchedness  and  misery,  which  no  imagination  can  por- 
tray. 

He  alluded  to  the  scenes  in  St.  Domingo,  the  horrid  butcheries 
attendant  upon  the  revolt  in  that  island,  and  drew  a  picture, 
which  excited  the  intensest  horror  in  the  minds  of  all  his  auditors. 
He  referred  to  the  testimony  by  which  the  charge  would  be  estab- 
lished, to  the  great  number  of  witnesses,  and  especially,  to  the 
testimony  of  the  Rev.  Mr.  Justiniani,  a  priest,  at  whose  hands 
your  children  have  received  baptismal  rights,  whose  ministra 
tions  at  the  graves  of  those  you  have  loved,  and  lost,  have 
assured  you  of  the  deep  interest  he  feels  in  your  welfare  and  hap- 
piness. 

During  the  delivery  of  this  speech,  so  well  calculated  to  arouse 
the  popular  frenzy,  you  could  see  the  angry  expressive  scowl,  and 


80  woman'sfaith. 

hear  the  half  suppressed,  half  muttered  whisperings,  and  angry 
denunciations  of  a  crowded  court-room. 

No  face  in  that  vast  assembly  seemed  so  serene,  no  brow  so 
imperturbed  as  that  of  Paul  Eaton.  Sitting  by  the  side  of  his 
inexperienced  advocate,  who  though  confident  of  his  client's  inno- 
cence, felt  that  in  the  violent  popular  prejudice,  which  had  been 
fanned  into  a  flame,  and  the  untiring  efforts  of  the  enemies  of 
Eaton,  he  was  involved  in  diflSculties,  to  extricate  him  from  which, 
required  all  the  tact,  learning  and  experience  of  the  wisest  and 
most  eloquent  of  the  profession. 

He  could  not  but  feel  the  greatest  uneasiness,  under  the  load  of 
responsibility,  which  he  had  assumed,  and  with  nervous  excitement 
awaited  the  introduction  of  the  witnesses,  who  were  to  make  out 
the  case  for  the  government. 

It  would  be  tedious  to  dwell  upon  the  details  of  the  cause,  and 
we  will  allude  only  to  a  large  number  of  witnesses,  who  spoke  of 
the  conduct  of  Eaton  with  the  slaves,  of  an  apparent  familiarity 
with  them,  sometimes  accompanying  them  in  the  field,  and  occa- 
sionally in  their  log  huts,  upon  the  banks  of  the  bayou. 

The  district  attorney  then  brought  forward  the  two  principal 
witnesses,  upon  whose  evidence  he  relied  most  confidently  for  a 
verdict  in  his  favor. 

Sam  Bennet,  a  man  who  had  amassed  considerable  property  in 
winning  at  games  of  hazard,  from  the  young  and  unwary,  and  by 
the  sale  of  intoxicating  drinks  at  the  miserable  whisky  shop, 
which  bore  the  high  sounding  appellation  of  "The  Attakapas 
Exchange,"  was  called  to  the  stand. 

He  was  devoid  of  all  principle,  cunning,  shrewd,  and  selfish  to  a 
degree,  and  was  ever  loudest  as  a  champion  of  Southerp  rights. 

With  holy  horror  he  lamented  the  influence  of  the  new  light, 
the  canting  hypocrisy,  the  ill  regulated  zeal  of  long-faced  Metho- 
dists, who  he  said  were  making  sad  inroads  upon  the  doctrines  and 
teachings  of  the   Catholic   religion,   established   by   Spain    and 


A    TALE     OF     SOUTHEBN     LIFE.  81 

France,  when  in  possession  of  this  country,  a  religion  which 
interfered  with  no  man's  business,  under  which  all  trades  could 
prosper,  whether  the  traflSc  was  in  the  souls  or  bodies  of 
men. 

The  other  witness,  Justiniani,  was  a  designing  and  artful  Jesuit 
priest,  educated  to  believe  in  the  infallibility  of  the  Catholic 
church,  and  that  the  end  always  justifies  the  means. 

Born  and  educated  in  a  land  where  despotism  reigned  supreme, 
he  would  resort  to  any  expedient  for  carrying  out  a  desirable 
object.  Bennet  being  asked  to  state  what  he  knew  in  regard  to 
the  prisoner's  guilt,  affected  great  ignorance,  and  could  at  first  state 
nothing,  but  what  was  drawn  from  him  by  a  critical  examination, 
but  having  effected  his  object  to  appear  unprejudiced,  and  his 
desire  being  quickened  for  the  conviction  of  Eaton,  he  went  on  of 
his  own  accord,  and  stated  that  he  had  seen  Eaton  with  the  slaves, 
and  suspecting  from  his  manner,  and  conduct,  that  he  had  some 
evil  designs,  he  had  watched  him,  and  on  a  night  after  a  meet- 
ing of  the  slaves  was  concluded,  seeing  him  walking  with  two 
very  intelligent  servants  of  Mr.  Lawton's,  he  stole  up  near  to  them, 
and  heard  him  advise  them  to  run  away  from  their  masters,  and  he 
would  aid  them  in  their  escape.  That  they  could  soon  reach  the 
Mississippi  river,  and  they  would  go  on  board  a  ship  bound  for 
Boston,  under  his  protection.  He  further  stated  that  but  for  the 
influence  of  priest  Justiniani,  he  could  easily  have  freed  these 
slaves,  they  were  so  numerous,  much  more  powerful  than  the 
whites,  and  they  had  only  to  make  a  show  of  resistance  and  the 
thing  was  done. 

After  some  other  immaterial  statements,  he  was  turned  over  to 
Burns,  for  a  cross  examination,  but  it  seemed  impossible  to  detect 
him,  if  his  story  was  fabricated  for  the  occasion.  He  stated  it 
with  such  an  air  of  truth,  so  calm,  and  collected  was  his  manner, 
80  ready  to  answer  every  possible  question,  so  patient,  that  after  a 


SSt  woman's  faith. 

most  rigid  and  scrutinizing  examination,  he  was  directed  to  leave 
the  witness  box. 

Mr.  Justiniani  was  then  called,  and  the  substance  of  his  tosti 
mony  was  that  an  old  and  highly  intelligent  slave,  who  had  long 
been  a  member  of  that  church,  had,  at  the  confessional,  stated  that 
Eaton  had  urged  upon  him,  arid  other  slaves,  to  leave  the  service 
of  their  masters,  and  moreover  told  them,  that  inasmuch  as  it  was 
a  sin  in  their  masters,  to  hold  them  in  bondage,  they  had  a  perfect 
right  to  resort  to  the  most  violent  means,  even  unto  death  itself, 
to  break  this  yoke,  and  told  them  that  so  far  as  he  could  aid  them, 
he  would  cheerfully  do  so,  at  all  hazards ;  that  by  the  rule  of  the 
church,  he  was  not  permitted  to  give  the  name  of  any  one,  who 
confessed  a  fact,  that  might  in  any  way  implicate  him. 

Being  asked  by  Mr.  Burn§  how  long  he  had  known  the  prisoner, 
he  said  that  he  had  no  acquaintance  with  him,  that  knowing  him 
to  be  a  wicked  and  dangerous  man,  he  had  avoided  his  society. 

Being  asked  if  he  felt  no  hostility  to  Eaton,  he  replied  in  the 
negative,  and  in  answer  to  whether  he  had  heard  the  denunciations 
of  Eaton  upon  the  Catholic  church,  and  was  therefore  not  preju- 
diced against  him,  replied,  that  he  felt  for  him,  no  other  emotion 
than  pity  ;  that  like  all  heretics  he  regarded  him  as  an  enemy  to 
the  church,  and  therefore  dangerous  to  society.  The  district 
attorney  announced  to  the  court,  that  the  case  on  the  part  of  the 
State  was  closed.  Burns  then  called  as  witnesses  for  Eaton,  a  few 
highly  respectable  planters,  to  prove  that  for  the  short  time  they 
had  known  him,  he  had  maintained  a  most  irreproachable  charac- 
ter; that  at  their  own  suggestion  he  had  preached  to  their  slaves, 
and  always  inculcated  the  doctrine,  that  slaves  should  be  obedient 
to  Iheir  masters ;  that  they  had  found  them  remarkably  docile, 
affectionate,  and  trustworthy,  since  they  had  been  instructed  by 
Eaton ;  that  sometimes  they  thought  him  imprudent,  when  speak- 
ing upon  the  subject  of  Catholicism,  and  the  sale  of  ardent  spirits, 


A     TALE     OF     SOUTHERN     LIFE.  33 

he  denounced  the  pretensions  of  the  priest,  in  the  forgiveness 
of  sins,  and  the  dealer  in  what  he  termed  liquid  poison,  as  the 
destroyer  of  the  happiness  and  peace  of  society.  But  as  far  as 
the  sincerity  and  honesty  of  the  accused  was  concerned,  they 
never  had,  and  did  not  now  entertain  a  doubt  in  regard  to 
it. 

By  permission  of  the  court,  Burns  read  some  letters  fron 
planters  in  South  Carolina,  recommending  Eaton,  as  a  pious  ano 
worthy  missionary. 

The  case  was  now  closed  for  the  prisoner,  and  the  distrid 
attorney,  after  reading  the  statute  defining  the  oflfence  of  ai 
attempt  to  create  an  insurrection  among  the  slaves,  remarked,  tha< 
the  case  was  so  fully  made  out,  on  the  part  of  the  prosecution 
that  he  would  waive  any  further  observations  in  the  opening,  and 
would  resers^e  his  comments  upon  the  testimony,  until  his  reply  to 
the  defence,  which  might  be  attempted  on  the  part  of  the  prisoner 

Having  taken  his  seat.  Burns  arose  and  remarked  to  the  courl 
and  jury,  that  he  appeared  before  them  for  a  defenceless  stranger, 
on  trial  for  his  life,  with  no  other  reward,  than  that  of  a  con- 
sciousness of  duty  performed,  and  that  however  without  these 
walls,  public  clamor  might  lift  its  angry  voice,  and  popular  pre- 
judice impatiently  await  its  victim,  that  before  this  jury,  intelli- 
gent and  impartial,  sworn  to  try  the  cause  solely  upon  the  law, 
and  the  evidence,  starting  in  their  investigations  with  the  pre- 
sumption that  the  accused  was  innocent,  no  other  consideration 
would  influence  their  minds,  but  the  testimony  and  the  law, 
applicable  to  the  cause.  The  eloquent  appeal  made  by  the  counsel 
for  the  State  to  us,  who  are  experienced  in  the  trial  of  criminal 
causes,  was  somewhat  unaffecting,  inasmuch  as  we  have  listened 
again  and  again  to  his  warning  voice,  bidding  jurors  beware  of  the 
necessity  of  maintaining  the  dignity  of  the  law,  and  the  great 
danger  to  society,  if  crime  should  go  unw hipped  of  justice.  But 
if  their  sympathies  were  to  be  aroused,  if  outside  the  evidence, 

2* 


84  woman's     FAITH. 

the  facts  and  circumstances  of  this  cause,  any  influence  was  to  be 
brought  to  bear  upon  it,  the  condition  of  the  prisoner  at  the  bar, 
unaided  by  the  influence  of  wealth,  or  of  powerful  friends,  a 
stranger,  the  power  of  the  State  arrayed  against  him,  backed  by 
the  most  unrelenting  hostility,  appealed  most  touchingly  to  every 
ingenuous  heart.  Nothwithstanding  all  this,  he  sits  before  you 
calm  and  meek,  his  only  consolation,  a  conscious  innocence,  and 
that  if  he  fell  beneath  the  pressure,  which  seemed  so  imminent, 
and  crushing,  he  said  it  was  for  righteousness  sake,  and  that  his 
was  the  kingdom  of  heaven. 

With  such  fearful  odds  to  contend  against,  such  a  penalty, 
which  he  might  be  called  to  sufi"er,  in  the  hearts  of  the  jury,  he 
would  find  a  voice,  quick  and  powerful,  to  eflect  his  deliverance. 

Upon  the  evidence  of  the  witnesses,  just  introduced,  so  general 
and  so  vague,  Burns  remarked,  that  he  would  not  for  a  moment 
dwell,  but  would  ^come  at  once  to  the  testimony  of  Bennet,  and 
Justiniani,  upon  which,  the  learned  district  attorney  triumphant- 
ly asks  for  a  verdict  of  condemnation. 

The  life  of  my  client,  and  what  to  him  is  dearer  than  life,  is 
involved  in  this  cause,  and  I  shall,  without  fear  or  stint,  attack 
those  witnesses,  and  before  I  shall  take  my  seat,  I  will  satisfy  you 
that  their  bitter  hostility,  their  interest,  all  their  passions,  have 
rendered  them  unworthy  of  credit,  and  the  story  they  have  told, 
is  a  most  wicked  fabrication. 

Burns  dwelt  on  the  character  of  his  client,  the  evidence  of  the 
planters,  their  still  unabated  confidence  in  him,  the  letters  which 
the  indulgence  of  the  court  had  permitted  to  be  read,  his  vocation, 
his  obedience  to  the  command  to  go  out  into  the  highways  and 
hedges,  and  invite  the  poor  to  the  feast. 

He  then  dwelt  upon  the  improbability  of  this  story,  the  futility 
of  the  attempt,  on  the  part  of  Eaton,  the  madness  and  folly  of  the 
pretended  scheme,  and  the  fact,  that  the  same  story  was  told  by 
these  two  men,  influenced  by  similar  passions,  hatred  and  revenge, 


A.    TALE    OF     SOUTHEBN     LIFB.  85 

paying  money  to  counsel  to  aid  the  State,  for  the  conviction  of 
this  poor  defenceless  stranger. 

Then  fixing  his  keen  eyes  upon  the  blanched  countenance  of 
Bennet,  and  the  excited,  yet  wary  face  of  Justiniani,  he  exclaimed, 
"  Here,  here  is  the  evidence,  stronger  than  a  thousand  witnesses, 
more  potent  than  all  the  testimony,  to  convince  you  of  the  inno- 
cence of  the  accused. 

"  Here  in  their  own  handwriting,  in  this  paper,  which  I  hold  in 
my  hand,  is  evidence,  'confirmations  strong  as  proofs  of  holy 
writ,'  that  Eaton  is  the  victim  of  the  foulest  conspiracy."  Here 
the  whole  frame  of  Bennet  trembled  like  an  aspen,  and  the  dark 
swarthy  face  of  Justiniani  assumed  an  ashy  paleness,  for  they  had 
seen  the  paper,  which  Bums,  with  such  triumph,  his  whole  chest 
dilating  with  excitement,  arid  his  eye  burning  with  fiery  indigna- 
tion, was  then  exhibiting.  The  writing  which  Burns  held  in  his 
hand,  and  which  was  telling,  with  such  terrible  efiect  upon  the 
principal  witnesses,  he  all  the  while  supposed  was  the  paper  for 
the  employment  of  Lawson,  signed  by  Bennet  and  Justiniani, 
and  by  it  he  expected  to  convince  the  jury  of  the  deep  interest 
these  men  felt  in  the  result  of  the  cause,  and  the  improper  step 
they  adopted,  for  the  conviction  of  Eaton.  He  had  treated  the 
jiaper  he  now  held  in  his  hand  as  an  envelope  of  the  agreement, 
and  therefore  entirely  overlooked  it,  which  by  mistake  had  been 
handed  to  him  by  Bennet  in  his  excitement  as  a  witness. 

The  alarm  and  terror  of  Bennet  and  Justiniani  in  this  denoue- 
ment, scarcely  equalled  the  surprise  and  gratification  of  the  advo- 
cate, as  he  read  to  the  astonished  court  and  jury  the  following 
note  written  and  signed  as  below. 

"Mr.  Bennet — I  trust  you  will  be  fully  prepared  for  your  examination, 
as  a  witness  to-morrow  in  the  case  of  the  State,  against  Eaton.  All  the 
money  we  have  expended  and  pains  taken  to  procure  his  conviction,  will 
prove  unavailing,  unless  our  testimony  is  fully  credited.  Be  calm  and 
collected,  patient  under  cross  examination — and  tell  your  story  just  in  the 


86  woman's   faith. 

words  we  have  prepared  it,  and  appear,  as  far  as  possible,  to  be  entirely 
disinterested.  My  testimony  will  be  the  same  as  yours  with  slight  varia- 
tions ;  my  position  and  profession  will  give  such  weight  to  our  testi- 
mony, that  the  conviction  and  punishment  of  our  mutual  enemy  will  be 
sore.    Our  interests  are  one,  and  we  must  stand  or  fall  upon  the  result  of 

this  cause. 

In  hafite,  yoi;^  friend, 

JOSTIXIANI," 
t 

The  excitement  produced  by  reading  this  note,  could  with  dif- 
ficulty be  restrained,  for  now  the  tables  were  turned,  and  poor 
Eaton,  against  whom  the  popular  feeling  had  been  aroused  to  such 
a  pitch  of  excitement,  at  once  became  the  object  of  deepest  interest 
and  favor. 

When  order  had  been  restored,  Bums,  in  a  calm,  and  solemn 
manner,  continued. 

"  How  little  did  I  dream,  gentlemen,  when  charging  upon  these 
two  witnesses,  the  authorship  of  a  most  foul  and  wicked  con- 
spiracy, that  Providence  had  placed  in  my  hand,  this  clear  con- 
firmation of  the  position  that  I  had  taken. 

" '  There's  a  divinity  that  shapes  our  ends, 
Eough  hew  them  how  we  will.' 

"  I  need  detain  you  no  longer,  for  I  read  in  the  expression  of  the 
face,  in  the  deep  indignation  which  all  may  see,  is  swelling  the 
breast  of  him,  who  has  presided  over  your  deliberations,  in  the 
uncontrollable  utterance  of  that  still,  small  voice,  which  speaks  to 
us  from  this  large  and  respectable  auditory,  the  result  of  this 
cause. 

"  I  hear  pronoimced  as  by  acclamation,  the  innocence  of  my 
client." 

He  had  scarcely  finished  his  address,  and  taken  his  seat,  when 
the  judge  ordered  the  sheriff  to  take  into  custody,  Bennet  and 
Justiniani,  but  they  had  taken  advantage  of  the  excitement 
of   the    moment,    and    had    mode    good    their    escape.      The 


A     TALE     OF     SOUTHERN     LIFE.  3Y 

district  attorney  declined  to  further  prosecute  the  cause,  the  jury 
without  leaving  their  seats,  pronounced  a  unanimous  verdict  of 
acquittal.  Paul  Eaton,  retired  from  the  scene  of  this  frightful 
ordeal,  only  the  more  intent  upon  the  work  of  his  master  and  to 
the  congratulations  of  those  around  him,  replied,  "  The  Lord 
is  my  rock,  and.  my  fortress,  and  my  deliverer.  He  delivered  me 
from  my  strong  enemy,  and  from  them  that  hated  me  :  for  they 
were  too  strong  for  me." 


88  woman'sfaith. 


CHAPTER    VII. 

The  return  of  Mr.  Lefort,  so  anxiously  awaited,  by  that  now 
happy  circle,  imparted  a  joy  and  gladness  all  the  more  rapturous, 
as  until  now,  he  had  never  been  separated  from  his  beloved 
family,  but  during  the  passing  of  a  few  short  hours.  The  pangs 
of  separation,  for  weeks  and  months,  from  those,  for  whom,  and 
in  whom  he  lived,  whose  society  was  the  solace  and  charm  of  his 
life,  he  had  never  felt.  All  his  dreams  of  ambition,  the  passionate 
fondness  with  which,  in  earlier  life,  he  had  mingled  in  the  fascina- 
ting and  yet  dangerous  society  of  Paris,  all  were  centered  in  the 
sweet  and  calm  delights  of  his  prairie  home,  and  with  a  feeling  of 
exultation,  concealed  it  is  true,  did  he  now  introduce  to  that 
charmed  circle,  to  his  wife,  so  lady-like  and  captivating  in  her 
manners,  and  to  his  daughters,  the  pride  of  his  heart,  the  gifted 
and  handsome  young  advocate,  whose  abilities  and  manners,  and 
lofty  tone  and  bearing,  had  so  won  upon  his  esteem  and  regard. 

Supper  being  over,  as  is  the  custom  in  this  most  soft,  balmy 
and  delightful  climate,  aH  retired  to  seats  upon  the  lawn,  where 
Lefort,  with  his  highly  flavored  cigar,  usually  passed  an  hour 
after  the  evening  meal,  in  unreserved  and  delightful  intercourse 
with  his  family. 

It  was  the  month  of  May,  the  heat  of  the  midday  sun,  dissipated 
by  the  refreshing  breeze,  which  at  every  sun-setting  floats  over 
these  extended  prairies  from  the  gulf,  gave  place  to  a  most  deli- 
cious and  invigorating,  softly  tempered  atmosphere. 

The  moon  rising  full  orbed  from  her  ocean  bed,  was  com- 


A     TALE     OF     SOUTHERN     LIFE..  39 

mencing  her  stately  tnarcli  across  the  blue  expanse,  lighting  up 
with  soft  and  mellow  radiance,  a  landscape,  which  nature  with 
lavish  hand,  had  adorned  with  wild  and  witching  magnificence, 
and  as  if  to  laugh  to  scorn  the  artistic  skill  of  man,  had  decked 
with  flower  and  blossom,  the  sweetest  and  the  loveliest,  and 
making  the  whole  scene  living  and  .vocal  with  the  song  of  the 
mocking  bird,  which  borne  upon  the  stillness  and  hush  of  evening, 
seemed  but  an  echo  of  the  songs  of  the  angels ;  and  whose  sweet 
silvery  notes,  ever  varying,  ever  new,  full  of  melody,  cheered  the 
long  hours  of  night,  and  only  ceased,  when  the  song  of  the  morn- 
ing awaked  from  sweet  repose  the  children  of  the  prairie. 

"  I  fear,  Mr.  Bums,"  said  Louise,  "  that  father  has  drawn  too 
largely,  upon  your  patience,  in  supposing  that  you  would  willingly 
give  up,  even  ^or  a  few  days,  the  excitement  of  business,  the  plea- 
sures and  gaieties  of  town  life,  for  our  quiet  and  rural  retreat,  but 
he  is  so  in  love  with  Oak  Lawn  himself,  that  he  fancies,  that  it 
must  appear  an  Eden  to  all  who  visit  it." 

"  I  have  but  one  objection  in  accepting  your  father's  kind  and 
generous  hospitality,  Miss  Lefort,  which  is,  that  my  oflSce  and  my 
room  at  the  ■hotel,  will  be  so  irksome  to  me  after  enjoying,  as  I 
know  I  shall,  to  my  heart's  conteoit,  the  pleasures  of  this  most 
delightful  retreat.  And  if  all  my  poetical  sentiments  were  not 
quite  lost  in  pouring  over  dry  and  musty  law  books,  I  should 
say,  that  for  more  reasons  than  one,  your  father  has  rightly 
regarded  his  home  as  an  Eden,  inasmuch  as  no  voice  has  driven 
from  this  beautiful  garden  its  chief  ornament." 

"  You  are  quite  flattering,  Mr.  Burns ;  you  may  find  our  home 
so  dull,  so  wanting  in  the  excitement  of  your  busy  life,  that  you 
will  welcome  the  hour  that  brings  your  visit  to  a  close.  My 
father  will  be  delighted  with  your  admiration  of  our  home,  for  I 
really  think,  were  he  to-day  to  hear  that  he  was  restored  to  his 
honors,  to  the  estates,  which  were  unjustly  wrested  from  him,  he 
would  hesitate  long  before  he  would  exchange  his  new  home,  for 


40  woman's     FAITH. 

all  the  allurements,  that  wealth  and  fashion,  and  high  position 
might  offer  for  his  acceptance." 

"  You  are  from  New  England ;  do  tell  us  of  that  famed  spot  of 
which  we  have  heard  so  much,  and  but  for  its  cold  wintry  blasts, 
would  seem  so  attractive  as  a  home,"  said  Louise. 

"  May  there  not  be  warm  hearts,  which  the  frost  and  the  ice 
cannot  reach.  Miss  Lefort  ? 

"  In  the  communion  with  such,  in  the  society  of  the  pure,  the 
intellectual,  the  cultivated,  with  all  that  art  and  genius  can  furnish 
for  the  comfort  and  embellishment  of  life,  think  you,  that  the 
wintry  blast,  which  bears  on  its  wings  the  fleecy  snows  of  Decem- 
ber, can  chill  the  enjoyments,  which  in  such  society  and  in  such 
homes  fill  up  the  fleeting  hours  of  human  existence  ?" 

"  I  know  Mr.  Bums,  that  your  poetical  imagination  can  paint 
in  rosy  hues,  life,  in  any  clime  or  country.  But.it  seems  to  me, 
the  very  picture  you  have  drawn  of  the  enjoyment,  the  delights, 
which  cluster  around  a  home,  that  affluence  has  made  so  attrac- 
tive, reminds  us  of  the  reverse  of  your  charming  picture,  a  home 
where  penury  and  want  exhibit  the  children  of  misfortune  and 
sorrow,  and  that  from  that  habitation,  no  care  can  shut  out  the 
chilling  blasts,  or  light  up,  upon  its  hearth-stone,  a  cheering  blaze, 
for  the  comfort  and  happiness  of  the  members  of  such  a  house- 
hold." 

"  Oh,  father !"  exclaimed  Blanche,  as  she  saw  him  approaching, 
"I  am  so  glad  you  have  come  to  break  up  the  sharp  encounter  of 
words,  for  I  am  sure  their  hearts  are  not  in  their  conversation, 
between  Louise  and  Mr.  Burns",  for  they  will  either  make  our 
home,  now  so  joyous,  unhappy  from  comparison,  or  throw  so 
many  shadows,  deep  and  dark,  around  life  and  its  enjoyments, 
that  I  shall  hardly  dare  taste  of  the  bliss  of  the  present,  for  fear 
that  the  future  will  dash  the  cup,  ere  it  reaches  my  lips,  or  mingle 
with  its  sweets  some  poisonous  ingredient." 

"  I  plead  guilty,  Mr.  Lefort,  to  the  soft  impeachment  of  Miss 


A     TALE     OF     SOUTHEEN     LIFE.  4:1 

Blanche ;  I  am  so  new  to  the  charms  of  social  intercourse,  so  in 
the  habit  of  delivering  my  opinions,  and  arguing  all  questions,  that 
I  quite  forgot  the  conventionalities  of  society,  but  I  shall  throw 
myself  for  this,  my  first  offence,  upon  the  clemency  of  my  fair 
accuser,  and,  if  I  am  not  mistaken,  I  read  in  her  sweet  smile,  that 
mercy  has  tempered  the  sentence,  and  that  I  am  forgiven." 

"  Be  not  too  sure,  Mr.  Burns,"  Blanche  archly  replied,  "  that  you 
will  retire  so  easily  from  this  charge,  nor  trust  too  much  to  the 
inexperience  of  your  judge,  for  the  only  one  of  our  sex,  that  I  now 
recollect,  who  ever  assumed  the  ermine,  at  her  first  trial  called 
forth  the  expression  of  one  of  the  contestants :  '  O,  wise  and 
upright  judge ;'  and  gracious  though  she  was,  and  full  of  the  milk 
of  human  kindness,  the  sequel  proved  that  the  most  unbending, 
unyielding  justice,  was  the  attribute,  which  so  distinguished  her. 

"  Fear  you  not  then  to  trust  yourself  in  such  a  covui;,  and  will 
you  not  rather  decline  its  jurisdiction  and  say,  as  man  once  said, 
the  woman  gave  me  the  apple  (of  discord),  and  upon  Louise,  who 
here  is  all  powerful,  place  the  blame  of  this  controversy  ?" 

"A  truce  to  your  wild  badinage,  my  dear  daughter  ;  Mr.  Burns 
will  wish  himself  back  to  his  books  and  his  clients,  if  he  is  thus 
maltreated,  upon  his  first  introduction." 

,"  Say  rather,  my  dear  sir,  that  I  could  wish  my  books  and  oflBce 
here,  that  from  such  lips,  distilling  such  eloquence,  I  might  acquire 
a  manner  and  a  grace,  which  should  be  invincible,  before  all 
courts  aud  juries." 

In  unrestrained  and  general  conversation  the  hours  flew  swiftly 
away,  and  so  hearty  seemed  the  welcome  extended  to  their  young 
guest,  so  free  from  all  restraint,  such  a  desire  that  he  should  be 
happy,  that  ere  the  hour  for  retirement  had  come,  he  felt  quite 
domesticated  in  the  family  of  Mr.  Lefort. 

He  was  at  last  shown  to  his  room,  by"  a  domestic,  and  he  retired 
to  think  and  dream  of  a  family,  who  had  already  taken  full  posses- 
sion of  his  esteem  and  regard. 


43  woman's     FAITH. 

After  he  had  left,  Lefort  related  in  glowing  terms,  the  manner 
in  which  Burns  had  defended  Paul  Eaton,  the  strong  popular 
feeling  which  was  excited  against  him ;  many  sneeringly  remarked, 
that  being  a  northern  man,  with  strong  prejudices  against  the 
South  and  against  slavery,  of  course  he  would  defend  an  abolition- 
ist, and  that  upon  the  conviction  of  Eaton,  it  might  be  well  to 
advise  his  counsel  that  a  planting  neighborhood  was  illy  suited  to 
one,  who  entertained  such  opinions,  as  he  held.  And  that  when 
the  district  attorney  had  made  his  opening  speech,  which  pro- 
duced a  strong  eflfect,  not  only  upon  the  court  and  jury,  but  upon 
a  crowded  court-house,  he  felt  the  greatest  solicitude  for  young 
Burns,  standing  alone,  opposed  by  able  counsel  and  with  an  array 
of  popular  indignation,  scarcely  restrained.  And  then  "  the 
evidence  seemed  so  clear,  so  conclusive,  so  uncontradicted,  that 
had  I  stood  in  Burns'  place,  I  fear  I  should  have  retired  inglo- 
riously  from  the  field.  But  when  the  evidence  was  closed,  and  he 
rose  to  reply,  his  noble  bearing,  his  manly  straight-forward  expres- 
sions, the  honesty  of  purpose,  standing  out  so  prominently,  his 
clear  silver  voice,  ringing  like  a  trumpet,  his  face  glowing  with 
intelligence,  he  spoke  of  the  situation  of  his  client,  a  stranger  in  a 
strange  land,  abandoning  home,  with  all  its  endearments,  willing 
to  sufier  pei-secution  that  he  might  preach  the  gospel  to  the  poor 
and  the  degraded,  and  that  now  it  seemed,  he  would  wear  the 
martyr's  crown,  his  audience  were  melted,  and  the  fiercest  and 
most  obdurate  of  the  enemies  of  Eaton,  began  to  think  they  had 
judged  him  too  harshly.  When  he  came  to  the  testimony  of  the 
two  principal  witnesses,  his  eye  burning  with  indignation,  he  fixed 
a  withering  glance  upon  them,  and  drew  a  picture  of  a  plot,  so 
true  to  nature,  so  malignant,  and  so  apparently  accordant  with  the 
evidence,  that  the  conscience  of  Bennet  must  have  told  him  of 
its  correctness,  for  he  wi-ithed  in  his  seat,  and  his  face  seemed  as 
bloodless  as  a  statue,  and  when  he  read  a  letter,  handed  him  by 
accident,  written  by  Justiniani  to  Bennet,  a  complete  confirma- 


ATALE     OF     SOUTHERN     LIFE.  43 

tion  of  the  scheme,  as  he  had  imagined  it,  he  raised  his  large 
expressive  eyes,  from  which  all  passion  had  subsided,  and  in  tones 
of  voice  tremulous  with  emotion,  ascribed  to  that  Providence, 
which  watched  over  the  falling  of  a  sparrow,  the  rescue  of  his 
client  from  an  ignominious  death.  It  was  to  my  mind  one  of  the 
clearest  exhibitions  of  forensic  eloquence,  that  I  have  ever  wit- 
nessed, and  it  so  wrought  upon  the  mind  and  heart  of  the  judge, 
'.hat  he  thanked  him  from  the  bench,  for  having,  by  his  manly  and 
honorable  conduct,  saved  them  all  from  what  might  have  been  a 
most  terrible  and  fatal  mistake, 

"  The  trial  has  secured  for  Burns  a  most  enviable  position  and  a 
weight  of  character,  which  men,  who  have  grown  grey  in  the 
profession,  might  well  envy."  Louise  and  Blanche  had  become  so 
much  interested,  in  the  incidents  of  this  trial,  that  they  regretted 
that  the  clock  had  warned  them  of  the  hour  for  retirement. 

"  He  is  a  fascinating  man,  is  he  not,  Louise  ?  and  so  handsome 
too,  how  I  wish  he  lived  near  us,  that  we  might  enjoy  his 
society." 

"  Why  you  have  hardly  seen  him,  dear  Blanche,  how  do  you 
know,  but  when  annoyed  by  the  cares  of  business,  he  may  be 
morose  and  gloomy,  and  discontented  with  his  adopted  home,  and 
will  associate  with  it,  those  whom  he  finds  about  it,  and  regard 
them  as  he  does  that  residence,  with  feelings  akin  to  aversion. 
I  do  not  approve  of  likes  and  dislikes  at  first  sight,  and  though  1 
agree  with  you,  that  his  face  and  manners  are  nearly  faultless, 
I  would  like  to  know  more  of  him,  before  I  make  up  my  mind, 
that  he  is  all  that  your  imagination  would  paint  him." 

And  thus  did  these  young  charming  ladies  scan  the  character  of 
their  guest,  till  wrapped  in  sleep,  scenes  and  persons  faded  from  all 
remembrance. 

Day  after  day  was  the  visit  of  Burns  prolonged.  In  the  morn- 
ing he  found  new  excuses,  to  break  the  resolution,  he  had  formed 
at  night,  for  taking  his  departure.     Some  new  scenes  were  to  be 


44  woman's   faith. 

explored,  some  neighbors  to  be  visited,  and  he  was  so  politely  and 
winningly  invited,  that  resistance  was  quite  vain. 

A  week  had  thus  flown  swiftly  away,  and  now,  all  farewells 
having  been  spoken,  and  assurances  that  nothing  would  afford  him 
80  much  pleasure,  as  a  renewal  of  his  visit,  he  set  off  with  a  some- 
what heavy  heart  from  Oak  Lawn,  for  his  home,  his  books,  and 
the  duties  of  his  profession. 


A     TALE     OF      SOUTHEBN     LIFE.  45 


CHAPTER    VIII. 

Soon  after  the  establishment  of  Lefort  in  his  new  home  in 
Louisiana,  Frank  and  Charles  Grafton  purchased  and  took  posses- 
sion of  a  plantation  at  Cote  Blanche,  an  island  upon  the  Gulf  of 
Mexico,  in  distance,  about  a  day's  journey  from  Oak  Lawn.  As 
these  parties  will  figure  somewhat  largely  in  the  story  we  are 
relating,  we  shall  devote  a  few  pages  in  delineating*  their  charac- 
ters. 

Descended  from  an  ancient  and  highly  respectable  stock  in 
Virginia,  Frank  and  Charles  were  left,  while  children,  with  an 
ample  patrimony  to  the  care  of  a  distant  relative.  Frank  was  a 
handsome,  manly  hoy,  and  although  but  nine  years  of  age,  was 
remarkable  for  his  intelligence,  his  bold  and  fearless  demeanor. 
His  keen,  dark  eye,  while  it  revealed  by  its  flashes  the  great 
superiority  of  his  intellect,  at  the  same  time  manifested,  even  to 
the  most  casual  observer,  the  fiery  passions  which  were  glowing 
in  his  bosom.  He  was  even  now  a  most  fascinating  boy,  and 
under  the  culture,  required  by  such  a  nature,  no  one  could  but 
perceive  that  he  must  ever  take  a  prominent  position  among  his 
fellows.  The  lineaments  of  the  handsome  face,  the  qualities  of 
mind  and  heart  which  were  presented  by  his  brother  Charles,  but 
two  years  his  junior,  were  strikingly  dissimilar.  The  sweetness  of 
his  open,  smiling  face  appealed  most  touchingly  even  to  a  stranger, 
and  while  it  told  of  the  fountain  of  goodness  that  was  springing 
at  his  heart,  assured  you,  also,  that  he  was  gifted  with  no  ordi- 
nary intellectual  capacity.     Differently  moulded,  each  of  them 


46  WOMAN  FAITH. 

possessed  those  rare  character]  ics  which  betokened  for  them  a 
career  of  great  distinction.  A  large  but  strangely  selected 
library,  by  the  indulgence  of  their  uncle,  was  thrown  open  to 
them.  They  could  satisfy  their  curiosity  by  the  pictures  pre- 
sented to  the  eye,  or  feed  their  youthful  fancies  with  tales  of  the 
marvellous,  or  the  touching,  in  the  books  that  were  spread  out 
before  them.  The  strong  and  stern  nature  of  Frank  selected  the 
story  of  some  bold,  daring,  and  reckless  chief,  who,  at  the  head 
of  his  clan,  would  make  a  most  hazardous,  yet  successful  foray 
upon  his  neighbors,  and  carrying  oif,  to  his  mountain  retreat,  the 
beauty  and  booty,  which  his  valor  and  prowess  had  won,  would 
give  themselves  up  to  wild  revelry  and  riot.  Charles,  on  the 
other  hand,  would  be  feasting  his  young  fancy  upon  some  touch- 
ing ballad ;  his  eyes  now  overflowing  with  tears  at  the  plaintive 
recital,  and  anon,  his  bright,  face  gleaming  with  joy,  as  he  read  the 
agreeable  denouement  of  the  story  before  him.  Their  uncle  had 
employed  for  them  a  tutor,  who  was  rather  to  direct  and  influence 
their  pursuits,  than  to  enforce  a  proper,  mental  culture.  Fortu- 
nately he  was  a  man  of  heart,  as  well  as  mind.  Engaging  in  his 
disposition,  and  deeply  interested  in  the  welfare  of  the  boys,  who 
had  been  entrusted  to  his  care  and  guidance,  he  employed  every 
means  to  rightly  educate  them.  The  acute  and  vigorous  mind  of 
Frank,  the  rare  genius  which  he  thus  early  displayed,  awakened 
for  him  a  powerful  interest  in  his  tutor ;  but  the  aflfectionate 
nature,  the  sweet  and  docile  temper  of  Charles,  and  his  wonder- 
ful aptitude  for  the  acquisition  of  learning,  made  him  unwittingly 
the  favorite  with  the  teacher.  This,  the  quick  eye  of  Frank  dis- 
covered, and  though  he  did  not  manifest  his  perception  of  the 
fisict,  it  led  him  to  act  upon  his  own  impulses,  as  far  as  possible, 
and  to  lend  an  unwilling  ear  to  the  advice  of  his  mentor. 

That  they  might  grow  up  with  strong  and  vigorous  constitu- 
tions, Frank  and  Charles  were  each  furnished  with  a  horse  and 
servant,  and  gun;  and  the  peculiarities  of  the  boys  might  be 


A     TALE     OF     80UTHEKN     LIFE.  47 

seen  in  the  servants  and  the  horses  they  selected.  Frank  would 
have  a  steed  of  a  fiery  nature,  whose  blood  he  could  trace  back  to 
a  pedigree,  unrivalled  for  fleetness  and  beauty,  and  who,  by  his 
flashing  eye  and  pawing  foot,  manifested  impatience  under  all 
restraint ;  and  his  servant,  though  devoted  to  his  young  master, 
and  obedient  to  his  every  wish,  lent  an  unwilling,  sullen  ear  to  the 
commands,  or  the  request,  even,  of  another,  and  plainly  revealed 
by  his  intelligence  and  independence,  that  other  blood  than  that  of 
the  sable  African  coursed  wildly  through  his  veins.  Charles,  on 
the  contrary,  mounted  upon  a  handsome  and  well-bred  charger, 
required  docility  only,  and  while  he  started  off,  his  horse  fully 
caparisoned,  his  trained  and  affectionate  servant,  loaded  down 
with  all  the  implements  for  the  chase,  they  might  be  found,  ere 
the  sun  had  reached  the  zenith,  beneath  some  wide-spreading 
beach,  Charles  poring  over  a  pleasant  book,  while  Pedro,  having 
taken  good  care  of  the  horses,  was  preparing  the  nice  repast  he 
had  provided,  when  summoned  in  the  morning  to  make  ready  fov 
the  day's  excursion.  Under  the  guidance  of  their  teacher,  each 
rapidly  acquired  the  rudiments  of  learning  and  science ;  their 
taste  for  books  was  cultivated  and  increased,  and  few  of  the 
histories  or  biographies  of  the  library  but  were  thoroughly  read 
and  mastered  under  the  silent  influence  of  him  to  whose  training 
their  young  minds  had  been  committed.  Reared  in  afiluence,  with 
no  one  to  exercise  any  particular  control  of  them,  they  grew  up 
to  manhood,  the  one,  imperious,  haughty,  and"  skeptical,  the 
other,  most  genial  in  his  disposition,  and  possessed  of  those 
graces  of  mind  and  heart,  which  make  the  perfection  of  cha- 
racter. 

Time  had,  with  rapid  wings,  brought  them  to  that  period  of 
manhood,  when,  for  good  or  for  evil,  they  must  start  out  upon  the 
great  arena  of  life.  There  appeared  now  in  the  character  of 
Frank  Grafton,  traits  perfectly  enigmatical.  He  would  at  times 
charm  you  with  those  lofty  and  beautiful  sentiments,  which  so 


48  woman's     FAITH. 

flow  upon  the  pages  of  Addison  and  Cowper,  and  at  the  same 
time  you  could  perceive  lurking  beneath  it  all,  a  cynic^il  sneer,  as 
if  such  thoughts  were  but  the  wild  and  fanciful  d:  earns  of  the 
poet,  or  the  baseless  vagaries  of  genius.  He  possessed  apparently 
a  most  indomitable  spirit.  To  will,  with  him  was  the  accomplish- 
ment of  his  object,  and  wo  betide  the  person,  who  had  roused  the 
stormy  passions  of  his  nature.  He  laughed  at  difficulties ;  and 
most  of  the  trials,  and  the  sorrows,  which  encompass  the  path 
of  humanity,  excited  within  his  stern  bosom,  emotions  nearer 
akin  to  contempt,  than  pity.  In  scenes  of  real  danger,  when  the 
hearts  of  most  men  stand  still,  and  the  faces  of  the  bravest  are 
blanched  with  fear,  he  was  ever  calm,  collected  and  fearless.  The 
more  imminent  the  peril,  the  more  cool  and  intrepid  the  conduct 
that  seemed  to  delight  to  cope  with  it,  and  conquer;  and  yet  at 
some  comparatively  trivial  incident,  as  the  rushing  suddenly  upon 
him,  or  a  person  standing  at  his  bedside,  masked,  in  white,  would 
terribly  excite  his  whole  nervous  system,  and  his  stout  frame  would 
quiver,  as  in  an  agony  of  fear.  His  acute  and  vigorous  mind  seized 
with  an  unyielding  grasp  whatever  impressed  his  imagination, 
and  a  memory,  wonderfully  retentive,  laid  up  for  use  or  amuse- 
ment, all  the  ideas,  and  fi'equently,  the  very  words  of  a  favorite 
author.  According  to  his  mood,  he  would  at  times  attack  the 
feith  of  those  with  whom  he  might  be  conversing  with  the  malig- 
nant sneers  of  infidelity,  and  on  another  occasion  would  perfectly 
annihilate  some  flippant  scoffer,  by  the  power  of  his  arguments,  and 
the  bitterness  of  his  sarcasm.  His  temper  was  equally  uncertain. 
For  a  trifling  disobedience  he  would  sometimes  punish  with  the 
most  unrelenting  cruelty,  a  domestic  who  had  served  him  with 
entire  fidelity,  and  been  a  favorite  with  him  from  childhood,  while 
at  the  bedside  of  another,  who  in  health  was  ever  sullen  and 
disobedient,  he  would  devote  himself  with  all  the  care  of  long 
friendship,  and  the  involuntary  look  and  act  of  distress,  would  tell 
the  deep  sympathy  be  entertained  for  the  sufferer. 


ATALE     OF     SOUTHERN     LIFE.  49 


CHAPTER    IX. 

Frank  had  met  and  become  enamored  of  a  pure  and  lovely- 
being,  a  Miss  Helen  Marshall.  He  was  most  assiduous  in  his 
attentions,  and  though  her  youthful  fancy  was  most  favorably 
impressed  by  the  face  and  figure,  the  elegance  of  manter  and 
wonderful  conversational  powers  of  her  enthusiastic  admirer,  she 
had  occasionally  listened  to  him  unobserved,  and  seen  the  eiFu- 
sions  of  her  own  true  and  gentle  spirit  seared  by  the  withering 
ridicule  which  he  poured  upon  purity  and  truth.  The  more 
devoted  he  became,  the  more  unwilling  appeared  Helen  to 
receive  his  attentions.  The  intense  ardor  of  his  nature  was 
aroused  and  excited  by  opposition,  and  he  would  not  permit  him- 
self to  believe  that  any  object  was  for  him  impossible  of  accom- 
plishment. He  proposed,  and  was  refused.  "Ah!"  said  he  to  him- 
self in  his  solitary  chamber,  "  the  lovely  and  beautiful  Helen  Mar- 
shall has  declined  the  acceptance  of  my  hand.  '  The  offer  was 
disdained  and  love  denied.'  I  did  not  know  till  now  that  I  -really 
desired  to  marry  her  or  any  one.  It  was  but  a  youthful  passing 
fancy,  but  now  she  seems  the  sole  object  of  my  desire.  The  con- 
quest would  be  of  little  value,  if  there  were  to  be  no  toil,  no  strug- 
gle. Our  tastes,  she  said,  were  so  unlike,  our  sentiments  so  dissimi- 
lar, she  highly  esteemed  me,  but  could  not  love.  I  will  change 
my  tactics,  my  attentions  shall  hereafter  be  as  devoted  as  ever,  yet 
a  thousand  times  more  delicate.  I  will  learn  to  discourse  upon  the 
beauties  of  virtue,  the  charms  of  excellence.  The  faith  which,  as 
she  exhibits  it,  I  adinif  is  lovely,  shall  find  me  its  efiicient  cham- 

3 


50  WOMAN    8     FAITH. 

pion.  Most  winningly  will  I  woo  her,  will  persuade  this  young 
scornful  beauty,  that  her  friendship  will  lure  me  back  to  the  paths 
of  right  thinking  and  acting,  and  tell  her  of  the  strange  influence 
her  sweet  example  has  in  elevating  my  principles  and  conduct.  I 
will  fascinate  her,  and  when  she  fancies  me  to  be  strong  in  faith 
and  pure  in  sentiment,  by  a  little  coolness  I  will  make  her  feel  that 
I  am  necessary  to  her.  Why  listen  to  the  foolish  fears  of  a  love-sick- 
spirit,  and  despair  when  the  field  is  all  open  and  fair  before  me  ? 
My  heart  goes  hand  in  hand  with  my  pride ;  the  one  would  pine 
■  the  other  chafe  under  the  blighting  effects  of  a  final  rejection. 
Why,  did  not  Richard,  crooked  in  soul  and  person,  win  the  love 
of  Lady  Anne  even  while  he  told  her  that  he  slew  her  husband, 
and  when  she  was  following  the  bleeding  corse  of  the  murdered 
Henry  to  its  burial  ?  I  have  struck  at  the  beauteous  form  of  that 
religion  to  whose  shrine  her  pure  and  gentle  spirit  brought  its 
earliest  and  freshest  offerings,  but  I  did  not  overthrow  it,  and 
can  I  not,  when  she  fancies  me  talking  to  other  ears,  array  it  in 
loveliest  garb,  and  build  around  it  its  strongest  fortresses,  as  if  the 
sentiments  of  my  heart  had  all  been  moulded  anew,  and  fashioned 
after  the  pattern  of  her  own  bright  example  ?" 

Such  were  the  reflections  of  Frank  Grafton,  and  his  conduct  cor- 
responded with  the  views  he  entertained.  Mrs.  Linton,  the  aunt 
with  whom  Helen  had  always  lived,  and  now  her  only  relative, 
was  violently  attacked  by  that  insidious  disease,  which  hurries  to 
the  tomb  the  loveliest  and  the  fairest ;  those  whose  life  seems  most 
precious.  All  the  fears  and  apprehensions  of  Helen  were  awakened, 
and  everywhere  she  sought  relief  and  alleviation.  For  Mrs. 
Linton,  Frank  was  unwearied  in  his  efforts.  He  was  ever  ready, 
rendering  those  gentle,  unobtrusive  attentions  so  grateful  to  one 
sick  and  suffering.  Hardly  a  wish  was  expressed  for  some 
delicacy,  rare,  and  at  the  season  of  the  year  with  HiflBculty  obtain- 
ed— at  the  next  visit  of  Frank,  it  was  presented  to  the  gratified 
acceptance  of  Mrs.  Linton.     She  fancied  for  the  moment  that 


A.    TALE     OF    SOUTHERN    LIFE.  51 

her  own  carriage  was  unsafe,  Frank's  was  at  the  door  with  his 
skillful  coachman.  Mrs.  Linton  would  suffer  anxiety  that  so 
much  confinement  was  chasing  the  bloom  from  Helen's  cheek. 
Frank  who  had  long  been  almost  domesticated  at  Mrs.  Linton's, 
could  while  away  a  few  hours  by  reading  some  favorite  author, 
while  Helen  was  enjoying  her  pleasing  and  necessary  horseback 
excursion. 

And  all  this  time  he  made  not  an  allusion  even,  to  the  passion 
which  was  warm  and  glowing  at  his  heart.  An  observer  would 
have  supposed  them  upon  the  most  intimate  footing  of  friendship. 
The  quick  eye  of  the  aunt  even  failed  to  discern  the  love  which 
was  really  prompting  all  this  devotion.  She  remarked  to  Helen 
the  great  changes  which  seemed  to  have  taken  place  in  the  views 
and  character  of  Frank,  and  how  grateful  to  her  were  those  atten- 
tions which  appeared  so  disinterested.  "  I  thought,  Helen,  at  one 
time,  that  he  was  playing  the  lover  and  seeking  to  enchain  your 
affections  by  the  fascination  of  his  accomplished  address  and  his 
elegant  person." 

The  blush  which  mantled  upon  the  snowy  cheek  of  Helen  well- 
nigh  revealed  the  secret  which  she  had  confided  to  no  one,  while 
her  aunt  supposed  that  she  might  now  be  feeling  the  attractions  of 
one  so  cultivated  as  was  her  lover.  Frank  Grafton  found  in  Mrs. 
Linton  a  most  useful  ally.  She  was  eloquent  in  her  praise  of  his 
various  accomplishments,  and  unwittingly  removed  the  veiy  objec- 
tions which  had  prompted  Helen  in  the  course  she  had  taken, 
when  she  declined  the  offer  he  had  made  her.  The  strength  of 
Mrs.  Linton  had  been  rapidly  giving  way,  and  in  an  unexpected 
moment  she  fell  beneath  the  blow  of  the  Destroyer.  Helen's  heart 
and  home  were  now  desolate ;  she  felt  the  soothing  influences  of 
Frank's  attentions ;  his  society  had  been  almost  necessary  to  her. 
He  had  been  absent,  spending  some  time  in  Richmond.  The 
changed  manner,  the  delicate  attentions,  the  conversation,  and  more 
than  all,  the  unwearied  kindness,  which  he  had  displayed  during 


52  woman'sfaith. 

the  illness  of  her  aunt,  had  made  a  strong  and  most  favorable 
impression  upon  her  guileless  mind,  and  manifested  how  well  he 
was  acquainted  with  the  workings  of  the  human  heart. 

His  proud  nature,  she  said  to  herself,  would  not  permit  him  to 
renew  a  proposal,  which  had  once  been  rejected.  He  seemed 
bent  upon  making  me  feel  the  power  of  his  enchantment.  At 
times,  when  I  knew  his  expressive  eye  was  fixed  upon  me,  as  if  he 
were  reading  the  very  thoughts  of  my  soul,  upon  my  detection  of 
him,  his  face  would  reveal  an  interest  altogether  unmistakable,  but 
by  some  casual  unimportant  remark,  he  would  at  once  evidently 
seek  to  do  away  the  impression.  His  smile  is  so  bewitching,  so 
courteous;  so  civil  is  all  his  conduct,  every  word  and  act  so 
marked  with  gentleness  and  grace,  that  I  almost  forget  that  harsh 
and  haughty  manner  once  so  freezing  and  disagreeable.  Surely  he 
has  greatly  changed.  I  durst  not  ask  my  heart  what  changes 
have  there  been  wrought. 

Upon  the  return  of  Frank  he  met  Helen  by  accident  as  she  was 
returning  from  a  ride.  She  never  appeared  to  him  so  lovely. 
The  exhilarating  exercise  had  imparted  color  to  her  cheek,  and 
animation  to  her  spirits,  and  she  received  him  in  that  cordial 
manner  so  grateful  to  one  after  long  absence.  His  long  pent  up 
passion  would  be  restrained  no  longer. 

"  Vainly  have  I  endeavored,  Miss  Marshall,  to  obey  your  injunc- 
tions, and  blot  from  my  memory  the  hour  when  I  dared  to  tell  you 
of  my  love.  The  more  hopeless  appeared  my  prospects,  the 
more  intense  and  stronof  was  the  affection  with  which  I  regarded 
you.  I  know  you  think  me  passionate,  cruel.  For  weeks  have  I 
closely  watched  and  studied  your  feelings  toward  myself,  not  in 
your  words  or  conduct,  the  expression  of  your  eye,  the  lightest 
word  and  remark,  and  all  have  told  me  that  you  know  little  of 
the  true  character  of  him,  who  adores  you.  My  moody  fits,  pas- 
sionate expressions  even  would  all  be  forgotten,  but  I  know  the 
great,  the  fetal  objection.     You  have  believed  me  skeptical,  a 


A    TALE    OF    SOUTHERN    LIFE.  53 

scorner  of  that  faith,  which  appears  so  beautiful  as  exhibited  by 
yourself.  Upon  this  rock  have  all  my  hopes  and  fondest  antici- 
pations been  shipwrecked.  Already  have  my  views  and  feelings 
changed,  as  I  have  watched  your  daily  example,  and  might  not 
you  win  me  to  that  faith  and  trust  which  shines  with  so  benignant 
a  ray  in  all  your  conduct  ?  Will  you  not,  dear  Helen,  be  mine  ? 
Drive  me  not  to  hopeless  wretchedness  and  despair,  by  the  refusal 
of  a  heart  all  your  own." 

The  suflfused  eye,  the  sweet  smile  that  beamed  upon  her  blush- 
ing face  was  more  expressive  than  words,  and  the  permitted  kiss 
told  the  enthusiastic  lover  that  his  prayer  was  granted,  that  she 
would  be  his  for  ever. 

Our  readers  will  pardon  us  if  we  hurry  on  the  further  courtship 
and  marriage  of  Frank  and  Helen,  and  leave  to  their  own  imagina- 
tions this  interesting  portion  of  their  history.  We  will  accom- 
pany them  to  their  new  home  in  Louisiana,  a  description  of  which 
will  be  found  in  the  following  chapter. 


64  woman's  faith. 


CHAPTER  X. 

C6te  Blanche,  derives  its  name  from  the  long  line  of  white 
coast,  which  stretches  out  up'on  the  Gulf  of  Mexico.  It  will 
be  borne  in  mind  that  this  portion  of  the  State  was  almost 
entirely  peopled  by  emigration  from  France,  and  the  French  colo- 
nies. The  tri-colored  flag  was  far  more  familiar,  if  not  more  dear 
to  the  eyes  of  those,  who  first  settled  this  beautiful  and  fertile  sec- 
tion, than  the  stars  and  stripes,  the  emblem  of  the  government, 
which  had  recently  displaced  the  authority  of  France  and  Spain. 
The  habits  and  manners  of  the  people,  their  patriarchal  laws, 
their  customs  and  their  religion  were  all  borrowed  from  the  Gallic 
nation. 

The  primitive  simplicity  of  the  inhabitants,  their  love  of  ease 
and  quiet,  their  peacefiil  dispositions,  their  calm,  contented  and 
happy  lives,  beautifully  contrasted  with  the  restless  anxiety,  the 
eager  propensity  for  gain,  the  turbulence  and  discontent,  which 
were  the  characteristics  of  their  American  neighbors.  A  blending 
of  the  active  enterprise  of  the  one  with  the  too  quiet  but  good  sense 
of  the  other,  was  necessary  for  the  development  of  the  vast  resources 
of  this  most  opulent  region. 

Isolated  from  the  shore  of  the  Gulf,  the  little  Isle  of  C6te 
Blanche  reared  its  snowy  and  fertile  bosom,  high  above  the  waters 
which  sparkled  at  its  base.  The  magnificent  growth  of  under- 
wood, the  fruitful  vines  climbing  up  the  tall  magnolias,  the  rank 
waving  grasses,  shaded  by  the  immense  live  oaks,  which  invited 
the  wearied  mariner  to  come  in  from  the  burning  sun,  and  recline 


A    TALE    OF    80UTHEKN    LIFE.  55 

upon  the  soft  and  fragrant  couch,  all  indicated  how  rich  must  be 
the  soil  from  which  put  forth  such  luxuriant  vegetation. 

Nature,  in  one  of  her  wayward  and  generous  freaks,  seems  to 
have  selected  a  spot,  scattered  over  it  her  most  productive  mould, 
fanning  it  by  those  soft  and  gentle  breezes  from  the  sea,  which 
softens  the  rays  of  a  tropical  sun,  and  drives  away  the  frosts  of 
winter ;  and  as  if  her  generosity  had  been  now  suddenly  stinted, 
some  hundreds  of  acres  was  the  extent  she  would  provide  for  this 
garden  upon  the  deep. 

The   imaginative    mind   of  Helen    glowed  with    enthusiastic 
delight,  as  seated  with  her  husband  and  Charles  Grafton  upon  the 
verandah  of  their  neat  and  commodious  cottage,  she  feasted  her 
eyes  and  ears  with  the  views  and  voices  which  seemed  welcoming  • 
her  coming. 

She  was  struck  by  the  singular  contrast  existing  between  her 
present  home,  and  the  dear,  well-remembered  spot,  where  the 
bright  happy  years  o.f  childhood  and  youth  were  passed.  The 
scenery  how  strangely  different.  Here  stretched  out  before  her  eye 
one  wide  extensive  field,  upon  which  the  tall  stocks  of  corn  and 
cane  lifted  their  heads  as  if  in  rivalry.  The  broad  expanse  was 
relieved  of  its  tiresome  appearance  by  beautiful  copses,  which  for 
use,  as  well  as  ornament,  were  permitted  to  grow  in  various  spots 
upon  the  plantation.  The  only  elevation  that  e^er  gladdened  the 
vision,  might  be  seen  upon  the  surface  of  the  Gulf,  when  furious 
winds  were  piling  up,  like  Pelion  upon  Ossa,  wave  upon  wave, 
whose  whitened  foam,  tossed  by  the  raging  elements,  was  no  m,^^qh, 
representation  of  the  snows,  driven  by  the  winter's  blast.  ^^,,1  ,jj  jj;,!] 

For  one  who  had  been  reared  in  the  midst  of  scgp§ry,i^|jy3l^j.^S^ 
is  exhibited  in  the  counties  of  Virginia  lying]  ..b^^neath  tlf,e,:Ptlu,e,, 
Ridge,  the  change,  indeed,  was  wonderfi;],,.j,,1Jljef,i9l|ea]:,^ijd,Jp^aut^7^ 
ful  streams,  the  magnificent  watej;fgiyll8,^,^l^||,.aj5t4:,jy:9JQ,,pfil^lj?i9S^^^ 
unrivalled  beauty,  she  had  be.^PjS9;gcc}j^t(^^j^^p,^|::|e|^c)]jd^,jt|^|;  jl^^ 
wondrous  charm,  creat^4.>jf^^a^i|f}ei^t,'  5J5^i^e^^^ad,3^§fiigjpig^ 


£0^  woman's    FAITH. 

great  measure,  lost.  But  now  that  the  wide  level  of  sea  and  land 
which  ever  stretched  out  before  her,  became  tiresome  to  the  eye, 
she  could  not  but  sigh  for  one  more  view  of  those  lovely  land- 
scapes, so  diversified  and  so  numerous,  which  had  adorned  the 
home  of  her  childhood. 

"  What  pleasure  would  it  afibrd  me,"  said  Blanche  to  herself, 
"  once  more  to  look  down  from  that  dizzy  height  into  the  dark 
abyss  of  boiling  waters,  a-^  I  have  often  done  from  that  rocky 
bridge,  which  nature  hath  built  across  the  yawning  chasm  ;  or  to 
behold  that  grandest  spectacle  in  all  the  works  of  God,  the  pas- 
sage of  the  Potomac  through  the  iron-bound  sides  of  the  Blue 
Ridge.  But  my  happiness  is  not  dependent  upon  scenery,  at 
least  I  can  find  suflScient  here  to  gratify  the  wishes  of  any  rea- 
sonable person." 

C6te  Blanche,  the  residence  of  Ilelen,  now  became  to  her  the 
happiest  spot  that  her  fancy  even  had  ever  painted.  The  soli- 
tude of  her  home  was  brightened  by  the  presence  of  one,  whose 
voice,  to  her  ear,  was  sweeter  and  more  fascinating  than  the  most 
•witching  strains  of  melody.  She  was  now  a  mother.  Her  happi- 
ness knew  no  limit  or  abatement,  as  she  daily  watched  the 
unfolding  of  this  sweet  flower.  Her  heart,  which  from  earliest 
childhood,  had  felt  the  desolation  which  had  darkened  it  in  the 
rending  of  all  kindred  ties,  now  thrilled  with  a  new  joy  as  her 
sweet  babe  was  nestling  upon  her  bosom.  Heretofore,  when 
witnessing  the  delightful  exhibitions  of  parental  love,  or  the  warm 
outgushings  of  a  sister's  or  brother's  affection,  she  had  sighed, 
that  to  her  it  had  never  been  given  to  taste  the  bliss  flowing  from 
such  emotions.  One  void  in  her  aching  heart  had  never  been 
supplied.  One  wish,  deep  down  in  the  innermost  chamber  of  her 
soul,  had  remained  ungratified.  Her  affectionate  nature,  overflow- 
ing with  the  noblest  and  warmest  impulses,  sought,  with  a  craving 
that  could  not  be  denied,  an  object  upon  which  she  might  lavish 
all  her  love.    And  now,  as  she  looked  into  the  bright  blue  eyes  of 


A    TALE    OF    SOUTHERN    LIFE.  07 

her  darling  Ida,  and  saw  her  own  image  reflected  in  the  speaking 
face  before  her,  life  had  for  her  a  charm  and  an  object,  before 
unknown. 

Emma,  a  servant  that  had  been  given  to  Helen  in  early  child- 
hood, a  girl  of  uncommon  intelligence,  regarded,  with  an  aflec- 
tion,  second  only  to  that  of  the  mother's,  the  child  of  her 
mistress.  With  an  assuming  air,  and  as  if  endowed  with  a 
superior  skill  or  knowledge,  she  would  take  upon  herself  the  care 
and  nursing  of  it.  Half  reprovingly  would  she  look  upon  Helen, 
as  in  the  fondness  and  anxiety  of  first  maternal  love,  she  would 
kiss  into  wakefulness  its  quiet  slumbers,  as  if  envious  of  sleep,  in 
whose  soft  and  close  embrace  her  darling  was  reposing.  , 

"  Oh,  Mrs,  Helen,  do  let  little  I(^a  sleep.  You  bring  her  to  me, 
and  tell  me  that  she  is  so  fretful  that  you  are  afraid  she  is  sick, 
when  nothing  is  the  matter  of  her,  and  she  cries  because  you  will 
wake  her." 

"  Why,  Emma,  you  put  on  great  airs  since  the  birth  of  Ida. 
What  do  you  know  about  children?  I  waked  her  because  I 
thought  she  was  ill,  her  face  was  flushed,  and  she  was  so  un- 
quiet." 

"  Why,  Mistr3ss,  I  had  just  sung  her  to  sleep,  and  you  must 
wake  her  to  see  if  she  breathes.  Master  Frank  says  you  will 
kill  her  with  kindness  ;  that  if  he  was  in  Virginia,  he  would  send 
her  off"  to  old  Mrs.  Norvel  to  bring  her  up." 

"Your  master  would  do  great  things.  But  we  are  not  in 
Virginia,  and  old  Mrs.  Norvel's  cottage  is  many  a  long  mile  from 
here,  so  we  will  not  be  annoyed  by  fears  from  that  quarter. 
Emma,  put  little  Ida  in  her  carriage  and  accompany  me  in  my 
walk  upon  the  sea-shore,  now  that  the  sun  is  declining ;  the  fresh 
sea  breeze  will  invigorate  her.  I  wish  she  looked  as  rosy  and 
strong  as  those  children  playing  about  the  fisherman's  dwelling." 


3* 


fi&  (Voman's  faith. 


CHAPTER  XI. 

"  Tell  me,  Blanche,"  said  Louise,  "  who  was  that  lovely  being  that 
enchanted  every  one  by  her  exquisite  music  at  the  party  last 
evening.  Though  not  a  regular  beauty,  so  fascinating  and  be- 
witching was  her  manner  that  all  seemed  irresistibly  attracted  to 
her." 

"  It  was  Mrs.  Helen  Grafton,"  replied  Blanche.  "  Mr.  Burns 
desired  me  to  make  her  acquaintance  and  spoke  of  her  in  most 
exalted  terms.  Gladly  I  availed  myself  of  his  offer  to  introduce 
us." 

"  How  did  you  like  her,  Blanche  ?" 

"  Oh,  she  was  charming.  The  playfulness  of  her  wit  at  once 
delights  you.  Her  appreciation  of  character  is  wonderful,  and 
the  originality  of  her  conversation  so  surprising,  that  she  well 
deserved  the  high  encomium  of  Mr.  Burns." 

"We  will  stop  for  a  moment  our  narrative,  that  we  may  intro- 
duce to  our  readers  Mrs.  Grafton,  as  she  will  play  no  insignificant 
part  in  the  tale  we  are  telling.  Helen  Marshall,  now  Mrs.  Graf- 
ton, had  never  known  a  mother's  love,  and  before  she  could  appre- 
ciate the  doating  fondness  of  her  father,  he  was  summoned  to 
join  the  mother  in  a  happier  world.  She  had  been  nurtured  in 
the  family  of  a  distant  relative,  with  a  care  and  tenderness  little 
less  than  that  bestowed  by  parental  love.  She  possessed  a  most 
noble  and  generous  disposition.  She  was  tall,  with  something  in 
her  air  and  manner  that  at  once  commanded  esteem  and  respeat 
To  those  who  knew  her  intimately,  before  when  she  threw  off  all 
restraint,  she  manifested  a  warmth  and  depth  of  affection  that 


A    T  A  L.B1  OJm  6  oaf  TIILaCR']»/  LIFE.  '        M 

gfeMiSdffakrdlyrto  Dydongimofm^'.hfaf:  AsePTsd  ^ikhlts.  v-BhQi  had 
;^.uiiiaTipoweiJ$  (?£3arm8nj;vi<|The'^liyiofr(k8r;wit/;so:k0^en  and  y©& 
Sa'^feiAd^itHati akhoagk>Iit! st«ri^gi fo;^ laiinomerijs^dU^idimi  the  Bw^fc 
stfiil«  ofrgdetd-tmiure^i  i*hibh/.sol  illQininated;  her  handsome  features^ 
sp^afking  ■ih'  thf«  vepyiwopd^'wdiiifck^'woriHd^dv^asi  so. healing,  thati 
n©r:faii^Hn^^oinih^rUbwitoiflg<;;''b'3wi'd^fti'iisiitth8lbos^ 
^l^al  arii^w! J^adflbeidni  I idh-^ctadi [  ^ iSbe; i\^asl  •  pa^sibnat^ 
ifiuiie,  'atwi'gu^es4ty,'eix-cislled^irl''thisi;fl«G(j^^  In;  sin^g/ 

^'tiieMdlirtietit'''of':i{he'«>iigyih»ii;eKeo{iiti6n  sO':perfeciky  ^difall  ©f[ 
ftelT*^,^ -that  ftgjfehe  caJ'ised-hei>dkrgfe>blu4  eyesi  hep! fade  ■lightdd:upf 
a*hd'gl!6«'ilH^.'She''^6kt¥ed^4e'jiefth«K^8ry  soia^:<rfiM»la(4yi  yi!>fn  mo'il 
^ifijili^jii^aftte  'Hadiifcfee«''fepared.Hiji  ['be:p//^educi^titinv.aM  iBdaPcelji  a' 
'#arft'  y  rigf  atifi^r  i  -  it  ocfasi  iaiisiifflttgj  46;  seec'.ihd  i-kapeitioius  mann«i!! 
y^^  %M6y,JWbU0  yet  i  41iiMi^aiife  ,peai&dkik  Un^y  waned.  Erairiaji 
E^jirilfbffh^'r'&wq  ig!^  irbiohihaJifheeai^ivrafaliiepin  eariyjdkildlhbodv) 
'^^(ik  j*Hll!!Tecolleot}H  ghei  )wbnldilsayv''ihiat  jycra  ^mto  wiit  [upoo/ 
ftS^/'tta]l!:I('am'!yourinTstrt5S5iandIIid0  nit  jrahitto'  see!  ybti  iit  otbei 
soiled' feit^fe^nidit^  iikbthe  ©th«r  sei^aiita?^  f^And  tbdn,  sbdiwctuhii 
Mfrkff'ti^^ii^Q^vfnitivtg'fnai^  srit^rthe^i'eateptfcare :;ahd  tisfee,/apd^ 
^featfed'fejf 'tePiadey/iFduidrpraiseftiiftllirgfe  iustrioasi  leyes  aod  snowyr 
f^tfr>df'|ief'fie(iori$etand>c6ii9tao)fc  dtt?akdkal.  ijiIMwaysaGcomlMiiiyH 
ih]^|^^IIylen"itinLi(eri  waHcfe,  ijjcdriingt.hqE  dill  hlefrlanwisepidits; and; 
listening  with  eagerness  to  the  stories,  which  it  delighted;  .tbel 
youthful  Helen  to  read  to  her  from  her  juvenile  books,  she  grew 
up  with  tastes  and  manners  formed  upon  those  of  her  mistress. 
Of  Indian  descent,  her  long  black  hair,  her  clear  olive  complexion, 
her  erect  and  handsome  figure,  and  the  grace  of  her  movements 
would  have  led  one  to  suppose  that  she  was  of  Spanish  origin. 
The  kindness  on  the  part  of  Helen,  and  the  devoted  affectionate 
interest,  which  Emma  ever  manifested  in  all  that  concerned  her 
young  mistress,  created  a  bond  of  mutual  regard  of  the  strongest 
character. 


60  woman's   faith. 

Arriving  at  the  age  of  seventeen,  Helen  had  met  with  Frank 
Grafton,  a  young  gentleman  highly  prepossessing  in  his  personal 
appearance.  Strikingly  original,  with  wit,  keen  and  polished  as  a 
Damascus  blade,  a  memory  stored  with  the  choicest  gems  of 
poetry,  he  made  himself,  wherever  and  whenever  he  chose  to  be, 
a  decided  favorite.  In  the  full  freedom  of  unrestrained  conversa- 
tion, he  had  exhibited  characteristics,  which  though  they  might 
be  startling  and  fascinating,  were  yet  so  fearful,  that  Helen  some- 
times shuddered  at  the  power  Frank  Grafton  possessed  over  her. 
He  would  often  sneer  at  the  beautiful  morality,  which  Helen  had 
been  taught  to  love  from  her  childhood.  Again  and  again,  as  if 
from  mere  waywardness,  when  in  company  with  young  gentlemen, 
led  on  by  himself,  they  would  join  in  his  ridicule  of  religion, 
and  attempt  to  assail  the  evidences  of  its  genuineness  by  the  oft. 
refuted  arguments  of  infidelity,  he  would  turn  upon  them  a  look 
of  withering  scorn,  and  by  the  most  original  and  powerful  replies, 
would  place  as  upon  a  rock,  the  foundations  upon  which  the  Bible 
rested.  "Let  the  scofier,"  he  would  say,  "give  us  something  better 
in  its  place,  before  he  shall  take  away  the  last  plank  left  for  poor 
shipwrecked  humanity."  Young  as  he  was,  he  was  steeped  in 
misanthropy.  His  heart  had  been  corroded  by  communion  with 
infidel  writers,  and  he  indulged  its  wild  cravings  to  linger  about 
the  dark  spots,  which  the  spirit  of  evil  has  created  for  our  fallen 
humanity. 


A    TALE    OF    SOUTHERN    LIFE.  61 


CHAPTER   XII. 

Helen  Grafton  had  accepted  an  invitation  from  Mrs.  Lefort, 
and  Lad  passed  a  few  days  most  delightfully  at  Oak  Lawn.  The 
pure  and  exalted  sentiments,  which  shone  conspicuously  in  her 
conduct,  her  kind  and  obliging  disposition,  her  dignified  bearing, 
and  sparkling  conversation,  caused-  her  society  to  be  sought  in 
every  circle.  The  somewhat  singular  and  striking  contrast, 
between  her  hair,  black  as  the  raven's  wing,  and  her  large  eyes 
of  heavenly  blue,  and  a  complexion,  the  blending  of  the  rose  and 
lily,  was,  in  the  estimation  of  the  dark-eyed  handsome  Creoles,  a 
great  beauty.  Her  chiefest  ornament,  perhaps,  and  manifesting 
high  birth,  was  her  hand,  which,  as  she  ran  her  graceful  taper 
fingers  over  the  keys  of  the  piano,  or  along  the  strings  of  the 
harp,  displayed  a  symmetry  and  perfection,  most  marked  and 
elegant.  She  was  charmed  with  the  frank  and  courteous  man- 
ners, the  kind  and  generous  hospitality,  which  welcomed  her  so 
warmly  at  Oak  Lawn. 

At  her  urgent  request,  and  with  the  promise  of  Charles  Grafton, 
to  return  with  her  after  a  few  days'  stay,  Blanche  Lefort  accom- 
panied Mrs.  Grafton  on  her  return  to  her  home  upon  the  Gulf. 

The  enthusiastic  nature  of  Blanche  was  highly  delighted  by  the 
romantic  spot,  now  the  residence  of  Mrs.  Grafton.  They  had 
reached  it  just  at  the  close  of  day.  The  sun-setting  so  reminded 
her  of  those  marvellous  exhibitions  of  beauty  and  grandeur,  which 
she  had  seen  as  they  were  crossing  the  sea :  the  great  orb  of  day 
sinking  apparently  beneath  the  blue  wave,  and  at  its  parting,  the 


62  woman's    faith. .lAT    A 

•l  ^ 

reflection  of  his  rays  pouring  over  the  western  horizon  a  flood  of 
golden  light,  while  on  the  eastern  sky  the  pale  moon  was  mount- 
ing her  brilliant  car,  and  commencing  her  nightly  journey,  even 
before  the  day  had  come  to  its  close.  Their  occupations  and 
pleasures  were  equally  varied  by  rides  in  the  neighborhood,  and 
by  charming  excursions  upon  isome  one  of  the  numerous  bays, 
which  here  indent  tl^j^easjj^ltiiiey^tg^t^ul  ^acht  of  Charles,~ 
which  he  said,  he  greatly  preferred  to  a  lumbering  carriage,  as  his 

6fftjtyjrsi^WQrftvlKh«fe*dil3ftihafl»i^sgft4'***=^'^^p*^<l'*^J^^ 
^ren^<wjfm^tl)e(f)lii5  j<l>lutody ibjb anyjeKhiijaition^  of  fatigupJ  .uti  1  •!:»> 
i»Birti tM^Kt«it)iQ|^£ian«Jb«iiHrad:ddstinedT to ibave  diHikiistBsMiieEniit^ 
^atioift,!-ft)fc^«^li  1  !^b  «ni4sfc) iof ^ )^; ill^iv i fejijo^iinnnlbiiicilaaifit^jiii - < ito 
d^r^tijfpjisohad  Qamev)«a  «QdstiiimjiEol(;»9aiB>gaest9  to'4ial:El»ie[4ijhn£ 
t^,'haippin]gssiMUii^>jfl^ou^ic^cil£.  tx^fi^dratefiEl  indited  aiald'isoothiiBg^ 
'w»B^th62piiesenbeJ;o£  ]^aiieh^^i&nr>Hall9ncwas  ndiv,  dodmed  to  tASto 
1^;anp!i'io£(kf9ict^(»ni'iisiiitsiibittBiieat'<foirm,  Anid:JtQ  'tli4  vkityjdt^glti^ 
<iqte!Bjiab)cke;<:nrMdai  ibotbei-hotir  sf  Jh'lippiDetoH^knilmdideaoribedl 
^laa: 'iBljiBiHinfayiw^jitd'ihi^i;) eyafiiiiiereatfk^>itb) vneii  th^  i<ir^i;y^-oi&. 
despJatioin:.j;-33ei):'dkrliiaagdd«, ttibedixibJ/Qfiliai*  ■86)aiil,^:sad^^Iy  sk^d 
enE(dJ!an43,ao'iteokfat^aslitha>  ^tacl|,  febatlevenyHopeiflad'from'i^i^ 
b«$flni,'ofijhflr  lHioth^i:uJ;{ik)ttvjulaiaB  foliowied^conviilsioty-iii  rapidJ 
su(messioD|^vtiU«ithd)Eitn-edgliito£ithetl]iiittld6ufffa3-dr  gave  :wlay,  and  Bhe) 
lay  bQVet3ngoitetw9fejiiIlirf<^viJiuii(^^ 

should  conquer.  .iiv/iiJ  >ii;0  Jj^;  viur:^// 

,  1 1  Inlvol^efd  I  m  1  th'ftt  irigkt^b ^tni^ei.>im];6'oal^ uthfii  j^ngbfc' ihoj^es, 
yvy&hJ;iaid<iAo^.lai^\^3&9^>ii^4<'liLohi2SBak  of  iMtibeaiitifilit  andi  g^ted) 
Helettti  I.  Jf  lihQi  d(^stcQy€iB!wssi'  aucc^iful,  iflifeaiiW(Dralxl;the  .hi/g  Inightj 
ofJiarlirtes&il^rteld  ^4vl^  iher/beirigp  till  lis>  momiag!^;  xj£  late  ica'oslsL^t- 
ibg(daj^>Bhbuldj:idalBniobp0rii^dDS|dri^iEdETodd(fcing:hep(i^iiiij^^ 
l^sediandi  lostiiitjfc&arwisii'iHoj^j^ihitoiiafttfflnptJa  dafipri5)tic«t.of : 
tUofii v/tpctBJDing  -^(ame{lta^a«Afiene  laffdotido^  fixixi^j  vi  te  i  iteaKtdiiitusnedi 
e^)  i^)od  i  dt^j;  sigsfe  rbhoriiiiied)  o^etf>i«iOQl)d  .fei^  1  doKiSometMu^  iiie 
\ealDd,^.1]bei  Mabaifrov^ovBut^itkhiBcbritig^'flitghi  bo^iiH2rp|al  ^j^triaca 


A    TALE    OF    SOUTHEKN    LIFE.  63 

could  arrest.  In  the  morning,  little  Ida  was  the  picture  of  health, 
at  evening's  close,  she  was  reposing  in  the  sleep  of  death.  "  How 
true  to  nature  the  picture  of  the  psalmist,"  said  Blanche.  "  In 
the  morning  it  flourisheth  and  groweth  up,  in  the  evening  it  is 
cut  down  and  withereth."  But  this  sweet  flower,  dear  Helen, 
shall  bloom  again  in  pristine  beauty  in  those  pure,  bright  climes, 
where  sorrow  and  suffering  are  unknown.  "And  now,"  said 
Helen,  "  my  only  desire  is  that  soon  again  I  may  see  my  Ida, 
who,  with  my  sainted  father  and  mother,  will  bid  me  welcome  to 
their  heavenly  home." 
*^ 


■  iibiuA  iloi 

.iw    srI    1)11  A 

..nofloo'tii!  tliei-u;'iv/tiij 

■^nil-isib  -uoili  be^iuii  haa 

.J  Jih^iid  si  ill  iif)ii-w  ,tTfiOil  'lOil 

.,  ,boiD  'lo  i',f.ibi\is'i  !)rlj  II i  y-ULliini  oi 

.    ("giiiod  Ibw  i9il  b'ljiijg  bluov/  9il   Jfidi 

1  g£v/   gKonbniil   siili    IIA     .ds&-[9Jni   i^oiobnsi 

i     ./ifnni3  'to  ticq  s6i  no  ioubnoo    lo'jyjfiijj    Jciom 

-.bisga  Jgom  "^d  baa  ^-ieiaRoi  loil  lo  ikhr  '{^leyo  -jJjsqbijnB 

ylorlw  aid  ,aos&9i  £  iuodjiw  ,y/oa  bus  ;  Jioimoo  aid  sJonio-iq  oi 

.ba^njsdo  isauiiS  bif.v/oJ  gariB»d  bah  Jnnb 

-i)-u{  oj  ,i]i«j  lod  no  ajqmoJjj?  lixs  ,8a£>flbloo  \iii  d)hf  ^bsaluq-^-i  ail 

loit)Ui'j  od  '1979119/1  v/  ,ffioo*i  adi  rnoii  -lod  ^ai-jobio  ,iovj5l  pM  si^hla 

baa  .Kiv.cn'S.  "io  id-gla  'poY  sdi  Ito  baib  aBw  9x1  jjsrij  rralsH  •gtuibj  ji 

Ki;-w  ji  jRiij  bnsi  .hiiynori  edj  id\  \illis,ihuc{  ^od  idi  lod  gaidaxioiqsj 

bnii  boiasiaoobib  ai&ds  gni-ii^bna-i  ,g9V£la  sdj  lie  -^d  Jlal  has  n'woni 

Jnsibsdogib 
bofi  T^laboi  ,Bmiri[!l  lo  Jieq  oilj   no  Joalgsn  gniRrii  smoa  loi. 


/ 


64  woman's  faith, 


CHAPTER    XIII. 

The  singular  and  strange  waywardness  of  Frank  Grafton  was 
now  strikingly  manifested  in  his  conduct  towards  Emma. 

At  times  he  was  most  lavish  in  his  kindness.  The  presents  he 
made  her,  and  the  thousand  nameless  acts  of  generosity  with 
which  he  soothed  her  while  suffering  during  a  raging  fever,  all 
denoted  that  he  regarded  her  with  sentiments  of  the  most  heart- 
felt kindness. 

And  he  would  speak  of  her  devotion  to  Helen,  of  her 
unwearied,  affectionate  and  faithful  conduct,  as  she  watched  over, 
and  nursed  their  darling  Ida,  of  the  deep  grief  which  agonized 
her  heart,  when  this  bright  blossom  was  transplanted  from  earth, 
to  mature  in  the  Paradise  of  God,  that  you  could  not  but  suppose 
that  he  would  guard  her  well  being,  with  all  the  care  of  the 
tenderest  interest.  All  this  kindness  was  reciprocated  by  the 
most  grateful  conduct  on  the  part  of  Emma.  She  studied  to 
anticipate  every  wish  of  her  master,  and  by  most  assiduous  care 
to  promote  his  comfort ;  and  now,  without  a  reason,  his  whole  con- 
duct and  bearing  toward  Emma  changed. 

He  repulsed,  with  icy  coldness,  all  attempts  on  her  part,  to  pro- 
pitiate his  favor,  ordering  her  from  the  room,  whenever  he  entered 
it,  telling  Helen  that  he  was  tired  of  the  very  sight  of  Emma,  and 
reproaching  her  for  her  partiality  for  the  servant,  and  that  it  was 
known  and  felt  by  all  the  slaves,  rendering  them  discontented  and 
disobedient. 

For  some  trifling  neglect  on  the  part  of  Emma,  rudely  and 


A    TALK     OF     SOUTHEEN    LIFE.  65 

violently  he  seized  her,  thrust  her  from  the  house,  and  compelled 
her  to  work  during  the  day  on  the  plantation,  taunting  her  with 
her  lady  manners,  her  gay  finery,  and  with  cruel  bitterness  alluded 
to  her  color,  as  if  she  was  the  oftspring  of  disgrace. 

All  this  Emma  bore  uncomplainingly,  thinking  that  by  more 
constant  endeavor  to  please  him,  by  not  thwarting  him  in  his  con- 
duct, and  from  the  love  he  seemed  to  bear  her  mistress,  his  cruel 
persecutions  would  cease. 

Helen's  intercessions,  so  far  from  effecting  a  favorable  change  in 
the  conduct  of  her  husband,  seemed  but  to  aggravate  his  outra- 
geous and  causeless  cruelty.  Be  came  home  in  the  afternoon, 
bringing  with  him  a  grim,  hard-featured,  disgusting  looking  man, 
ordering  Emma  to  present  herself,  and  submitted  her  to  the  inspec- 
tion of  this  heartless  trader,  asking  him  what  he  would  pay  for 
her. 

With  gloating  eyes  he  surveyed  the  fair  proportions  of  the 
faithful,  modest  Emma ;  and  as  he  carelessly  attempted  to  put  his 
arm  around  her  waist,  she  cast  upon  him  a  look  of  the  most 
withering  scorn  and  contempt,  bidding  him  touch  her  at  his  peril. 

"  Ah,  my  beauty,"  said  Craven,  "  you  are  just  the  girl  for  the 
New  Orleans  market.  These  lofty  airs  have  raised  you  a  cool 
five  hundred  in  value,  for  I  know  a  fellow  in  Mississippi,  once  an 
overseer,  who  now  counts  his  slaves  by  hundreds,  who  would  con- 
sider you  a  jewel  of  a  creature,  and  would  take  you,  let  the  price 
be  ever  so  exorbitant.  I  will  take  her.  Squire  Grafton,  at  $1500  ; 
she  is  good  for  nothing,  except  as  a  fancy  piece,  but  dainty  chaps 
will  pay  for  these  expensive  luxuries." 

Emma  rushed  from  the  room,  and  sought  her  mistress  that  she 
might  save  her  from  the  cruel  fate  which  was  impending  over  her. 
She  found  her  at  the  grave  of  Ida,  which  she  had  been  decorating 
with  the  wild  rose  and  cedar. 

"  Save  me,  O,  save  me,  mistress.  What  have  I  done  to  provoke 
such  unheard  of  cruelty  as  master  now  threatens  me  with  ? 


6Q  woman's    FAITH. 

"  He  has,  sold  me  to  a  wretch,  a  negro  trader,  of  New  Orleans, 
who  buys  me  for  some  disgusting,  brutish  creature  in  Mississippi. 
I  had  rather  die  a  thousand  deaths,  than  to  submit  for  a  moment 
to  the  vile  and  hateful  liberties  of  such  devils  in  human  shape ; 
and  the  bare  idea  of  being  separated  from  you,  rends  my  heart 
with  bitterest  anguish." 

"  Fear  not,  Emma.  Mr.  Grafton  cannot  be  serious  ;  he  knows 
that  you  are  mine,  and  that  nothing  would  induce  me  to  part  with 
you.  From  my  earliest  infancy,  you  have  been  my  kind  and 
faithful  attendant,  and  before  my  marriage,  arrangements  were 
made,  that  at  my  death,  you  were  to  be  free,  and  entirely,  solely 
mine,  during  my  life." 

Helen  hurried  to  the  apartment,  where  sat  her  husband  and 
Craven.  The  expression  upon  the  face  of  the  lattfer  revealed  at 
once  the  degraded  and  degrading  occupation,  by  which  he  fitted 
himself  for  the  abode  of  those  dark  evil  spirits  of  Milton's 
Pandemonium, 

"  Who  roving  on, 
In  confused  march,  this  adventurous  band, 
With  shuddering  horror,  pale,  and  eyes  aghast, 
Viewed  first  their  lamentable  lot,  and  found 
No  rest." 

He  rose,  and  was  about  to  address  Helen,  when  waving  him 
back,  with  the  most  indignant  scorn,  she  spoke  to  her  husband  as 
if  no  one  were  present. 

"  How  can  you,  Mr.  Grafton,  find  it  in  your  heart,  thus  to  dis- 
tress so  good,  and  so  true  a  girl  as  Emma  ?  Surely  her  conduct, 
ever  the  most  respectful,  her  efforts  incessant,  to  meet  even  your 
unexpressed  wishes,  entitles  her  to  your  kindest  consideration; 
and,  O,  how  great  has  been  her  devotion,  her  affectionate,  sleep- 
less anxiety  and  care,  her  unwearied  toil,  her  kind,  affectionate 
sympathy,  when  she  sought  to  cheer  your  despondency,  in  that 
hour  when  our  loved  Ida  sickened,  and  '  the  silver  cord  was  loosed, 


A    TALE    OF     60UTHEKN    LIFE.  67 

the  golden  bowl  was  broken.'  Then,  husband,  in  that  hour  of 
deepest,  darkest  sorrow,  you  appreciated  the  goodness  and  tender- 
ness of  Emma.  You  are  not,  you  cannot  be  serious  when  you 
speak  of  selling  to  any  one,  much  more  to  a  wicked,  heartless 
trader,  one,  who  has  been  reared  with  the  greatest  care  and 
tenderness." 

Grafton  sat  as  if  transfixed  by  the  touching  and  eloquent  appeal 
of  Helen.  His  capricious  disposition  now  suti'ered  torture  from 
the  course  he  had  taken. 

Craven,  fearful  of  the  effect  of  this  scene,  and  apprehensive  lest 
he  might  loose  the  advantage  of  his  bargain,  rose,  an4  taking 
from  his  hat  the  bill  of  sale,  which  Grafton  had  given  him, 
declared  that  he  had  paid  fifteen  hundred  dollars  for  this  girl ; 
that  here  was  his  title,  and  that  it  took  two  to  make  a  trade,  and 
as  many  to  unmake  it,  when  once  consummated. 

"  Wretch !"  said  Helen,  "  how  dare  you  pollute  this  house  by 
your  presence  ?  Those  horrid  slave-pens,  which  have  witnessed 
your  wicked  cruelties,  and  which  will  testify  against  you  at  a  higher 
than  a  human  tribunal,  are  the  only  fit  abodes  for  creatures  of 
your  calling." 

Grafton  interposed,  and  besought  Craven  to  give  up  the  trade, 
to  receive  back  the  money  he  had  paid  for  Emma,  that  indeed  the 
title  was  invalid,  as  by  his  marriage  contract  Emma  was  expressly 
reserved  as  the  individual  property  of  his  wife,  and  free  from  any 
interference  on  his  part. 

But  the  artful,  cunning  slave-trader  was  not  thus  to  be  foiled. 
He  said  he  would  risk  his  title,  that  the  warranty  of  Grafton  was 
sufficient,  and  that  in  Mississippi  they  cared  little  for  these  ijues 
tions,  a3  there  was  no  difficulty  in  concealing  from  all  judicial 
pursuit,  a  slave  that  was  highly  desirable.  That  she  could  bo 
kept  as  long  as  she  was  valuable,  and  when  tired  of  the  trade,  the 
owner  would  throw  her  back  upon  the  hands  of  the  seller,  on 
account  of  the  invalidity  of  the  sale  by  whicli  she  was  transferred 


68  woman's  faith. 

to  him.  He  would  now  take  his  leave,  and  in  the  morning  would 
call  for  the  girl  that  was  fairly  his  by  purchase. 

At  the  departure  of  this  Spirit  of  evil,  Helen  seemed  almost 
stupefied  with  the  blow  which  had  fallen  with  deadly  weight  upon 
her  heart. 

She  could  not  believe  the  evidence  of  her  senses.  She  was 
almost  frenzied  by  this  uncalled-for,  unnecessaiy  act  of  horrid  bar- 
barity. Her  husband  was  alarmed  by  the  highly  excited,  and 
almost  distracted  manner  of  Helen.  He  said  his  only  resource 
was  to  follow  Craven  to  New  Orleans,  and  at  once,  in  her  name, 
institute  legal  proceedings  to  annul  the  sale,  he  had  so  inconsider- 
ately, so  thoughtlessly  made,  of  Emma. 

"  Oh,  Grafton,  I  cannot  bear  that  Emma  should,  for  an  instant, 
be  in  the  custody  of  that  wicked,  heartless  creature.  He  will  con- 
trive some  plan  to  circumvent  us.  Money  will  be  used,  and  no 
pains  spared  to  gratify  his  malice.  Emma — poor  Emma,  who  has 
ever  been  treated  with  the  utmost  care  and  tenderness — whose 
feelings  would  revolt  as  soon  as  my  own,  at  contact  with  that 
loathsome  lump  of  wickedness — she  will  be  at  his  mercy.  Better, 
better  far  had  she  died  in  that  delirious  fever,  from  which  she 
has  so  recently  been  rescued,  than  to  have  seen  the  light  of  this 
day  of  desolation,  and  living  death. 

Oh,  Emma,  dear  Emma,  to  what  terrible  fate  have  I  exposed 
you,  in  bringing  you  from  our  peaceful  home  in  Virginia,  to  this 
abode  of  wretchedness,  of  deep  and  dark  despair !" 


ATALE     OF     BOUTHEKN     LIFE.  69 


CHAPTER    XIV. 

Unfold  we  the  dark  web,  that  fate  had  woven  for  the  sorrow- 
ing, yet  sinless. 

Oil,  how  little  is  known  of  the  heart  of  the  faithful  slave  !  How 
incorrect  the  general  idea  in  regard  to  their  intelligence.  Books 
have  not  tanght  them,  but  this  very  want  has  awakened  curiosity, 
and  vivntied  and  enkindled  it ;  given  such  new  force  and  power  lo 
observation,  and  so  quickened  the  imitative  power  of  these  down- 
trodden children,  that  one  is  often  surprised  by  the  simple,  touch- 
ing and  beautiful  expressions  of  mind  and  heart,  even  of  those  on 
whose  necks  are  hanging  the  chains  of  slavery.  God  has  gilded 
these  chains,  which  man  has  made  of  iron,  in  vouchsafing  docile, 
cheerful  dispositions,  warm  and  affectionate  natures,  hopeful, 
happy,  and  contented  hearts,  amidst  privations  and  sorrows, 
whispered  only  in  the  ear  of  Infinite  Love  ! 

Weep  not,  Emma,  sigh  not  for  the  freedom  of  the  bird  which 
chirps  upon  your  window-sill ;  your  true  heart  is  free  from  tha 
slavery  of  sin !  The  swift  wing  of  time  shall  soon  bear  your  free, 
untrammeled,  spirit  to  those  bright  realms  where  oppression  is 
unknown ! 

Emma  in  her  anxiety  to  know  her  fate  had,  unperceived,  follow- 
ed the  flying  footsteps  of  her  mistress,  and  through  a  half  opened 
door  had  heard  the  conversation,  which  we  have  related  in  the 
foregoing  chapter. 

Hope  died  within  her.  She  could  see  no  deliverance  from  the 
terrible  fate,  which  awaited  her. 

To  be  separated  from  her  mistress,  whom  she  loved  most  fondly, 


70  woman'sfaith. 

and  to  submit  to  cruelties  on  the  part  of  Craven,  which  imagina- 
tion could  scarely  conceive,  was  an  excess  of  torture,  sufficient  to 
unsettle  the  strongest  intellect. 

"  For  me — there  is  no  refuge,  no  escape,  but  in  death,"  said  Emma 
to  herself.  "  And  why  should  I  fear  its  cold  embrace.  My  own 
anxiety,  when,  a  few  weeks  since,  fever  was  burning  up  my  very 
life  blood,  and  the  portals  of  the  grave  were  opening  before  me, 
was,  that  I  should  leave  alone,  and  wretched,  my  mistress.  The 
waves  of  the  gulf  are  not  more  destitute  of  pity,  than  the  hearts  of 
men,  and  its  deepest  abysses  not  so  frightful,  as  the  habitations 
of  cruelty  !  God  will  pardon  me,  in  thus  escaping  from  the  horrid 
fate,  for  which  Craven,  the  slave-trader,  has  reserved  me." 

She  wrote  a  note  to  her  mistress,  full  of  love,  thanking  her  for 
the  kind  and  generous  treatment,  she  had  ever  received  at  her  hands, 
forgiving  Mr.  Grafton  for  the  act,  which  had  left  for  her,  this  only 
refuge,  and  asking  him,  as  a  last  favor,  that  she  might  be  buried 
by  the  side  of  the  beautiful  Ida,  whose  eyes,  a  few  weeks  since,  she 
had  closed  for  ever.  All  the  little  mementoes  of  kindness  she  had 
received,  she  carefully  packed  away,  and  a  beautiful  ringlet  of  the 
hair  of  Ida,  that  Helen  had  given  her  as  a  keep-sake,  was  tastefully 
sealed  up,  with  moss-rose,  and  cypress,  while  the  snowy  paper 
,  revealed  the  interest  of  Emma,  as  tears  had  left  their  traces  upon 
the  highly  prized  treasure.  Helen  was  surprised  at  the  calm,  un- 
ruffled manner  of  Emma,  she  appeared  so  remarkably  tender  and 
docile,  and  with  as  little  unconcern,  as  if  about  to  undertake  a  jour- 
ney. Calmly,  quietly,  did  she  wait  upon  her  mistress,  and  with  the 
greatest  care,  attended  to  all  her  wants  as  she  retired.  Once  or 
twice  she  came  back  to  the  chamber  of  Helen,  apparently  to  perform 
some  neglected  duty,  while  her  heart  was  throbbing  with  inten- 
sest  emotion,  as  she  looked  upon  the  face  of  her  earliest  and  most 
dearly  loved  friend. 

It  was  morning.  The  delicious  breeze  from  the  Gulf  was 
awaking  from  sweet  repose,  the  wearied,  but  now  refreshed  sleep* 


A     TALE     OF     SOUTHEBN     LIFE.  71 

ers  of  this  beautiful  clime.  Nature  was  wearing  her  freshest,  sweet- 
est attire,  while  music,  from  the  winged  songsters  of  the  grove, 
joined  the  voices  of  the  sea,  as  if  hymning  the  praises  of  the  world's 
great  Architect.  How  striking  the  contrast,  between  the  smiles 
of  all  this  vernal  beauty,  and  the  anguished  hearts,  and  perturbed 
passions  of  those,  for  whose  use  and  happiness  all  these  lovely 
scenes  were  created  !  Helen  had  risen  early,  with  the  intention  of 
buying  off  the  heartless  Craven,  from  his  purchase.  She  had  de- 
termined at  any  price  and  sacrifice,  to  retrieve  the  fatal,  unac- 
countable error  of  her  husband.  She  rang  for  Emma,  but  no  ans- 
wer was  made  to  the  oft  reiterated  summons.  Hastily  she  entered 
the  apartment,  which  adjoined  her  own,  and  with  surprise  saw  that 
her  nice  bed  had  been  undisturbed. 

At  first,  she  feared  that  Craven  had  availed  himself  of  the  night, 
and  by  stratagem  obtained  possession  of  this  coveted  object,  but  in 
looking  from  the  window  she  saw  his  hateful  form,  seated  in  his 
handsome  carriage,  approaching  their  dwelling.  It  then  occurred 
to  her  that  Emma  might  have  left  in  the  night,  with  a  trusted  ser- 
vant, and  gone  to  Lefort's,  where  she  was  ever  most  welcome. 
The  thought  delighted  her,  for  she  hoped  by  gaining  time,  and 
throwing  obstacles  in  the  way  of  Craven,  he  might  be  more  wil- 
ling to  accede  to  her  wishes.  When  Craven  learned  her  absence, 
he  assumed  some  insolent  airs,  and  charged  Grafton  with  conni- 
ving at  the  escape  of  Emma,  that  he  might  have  an  excuse  for  not 
delivering  the  slave. 

"How  dare  you,  sir?"  said  Grafton,  his  eye  flashing  fire,  and 
ano^er  swelling  his  veins  like  a  whip-lash,  "how  dare  you  utter  an 
insult  in  my  presence  ?  Instantly  remove  your  hated  person  from 
my  plantation,  or  my  slaves  shall  tie  you  to  yonder  oak,  and  beat 
you  like  a  hound,  till  your  howls  shall  remind  you  of  the  slave- 
pens  of  New  Orleans.  The  slave  you  purchased  is  not  absent,  with 
my  knowledge  or  by  my  procurement.     I  shall  not  trouble  myself 


72  woman's     FAITH. 

to  reclaim  her,  and  most  heartily  do  I  hope  she  is  beyond  the  pur- 
suit of  any  claimant.  Here  is  your  hated  gold,  the  price  of  all 
comfort  and  joy  in  this  household,  take  it,  and  name  any  addi- 
tional amount  which  will  satisfy  you,  to  give  back  the  contract  of 
sale,  and  it  shall  be  yours," 

"  I  intended  no  insult,  Mr.  Grafton,  but  I  shall  leave  as  required. 
You  will  permit  me  to  decline  to  receive  back  the  money  I  have 
paid;  it  is  yours,  and  Emma  is  mine.  My  remedy  shall  be  a 
peaceful  one,  and  I  have  no  fear  as  to  the  result." 

While  this  conversation  was  going  on,  Helen  had  examined  the 
room  of  Emma,  and  found  there  the  note  which  she  had  written. 
It  revealed,  too  fatally,  the  sad  event,  upon  which  was  to, hinge 
the  fate  of  the  family  of  Grafton. 

Helen  threw  herself  instinctively  upon  her  knees  by  the  side  of 
the  couch,  where  she  had  found  that  last  touching  remembrance, 
which  faithful  love,  and  despair,  that  sees  no  light  or  hope,  had 
been  so  lately  busied  in  creating,  and  with  eyes  suffused  with 
bui ning  tears,  uplifted,  as  if  invoking  relief  fiom  thoughts  which 
agonized  her  whole  being,  mentally  exclaiming,  "  this  must  not, 
cannot  be! — 

"  0,  the  guilt,  the  horror ! — ^What  expiation  can  atone  for  this 
cruel,  this  wanton  torture  ? 

"  What  in  the  eye  of  Heaven — in  the  ear  of  infinite  justice,  must 
be  the  report?  and  how  much  has  my  own  conduct  had  to  do 
with  this  proceeding?  Emma,  Emma,  is  there  not  a  drop  of  thy 
blood  upon  my  own  garments  ? 

"  Saviour,  lay  not  this  sin  to  my  charge !" 

From  the  window  overlooking  the  Gulf,  Helen  saw  her  husband 
with  a  large  number  of  slaves,  bearing  back  the  lifeless  corse  of 
poor  Emma,  which  the  relenting  waves  of  the  sea  had  that  morn- 
ing borne  back  to  the  shore. 

Her  heart  for  a  moment,  seemed  to  stand  still.    Pale  as 


A     TALE    OF    SOTJTHBBN     LIFE.  78 

marble,  uttering  no  word  of  sorrow  or  reproach,  her  full  large  eye 
of  blue,  unmoistened  by  a  tear,  she  saw  tbera  deposit  the  last 
remains  of  her  trusted,  devoted  Emma  upon  the  couch,  where  in 
life  it  had  quietly  and  peacefully  rested. 
Leave  we  here,  the  living  with  the  dead  I 


^  woman's  faith. 


CHAPTER    XV 

*•  Fool,  tliat  I  was,  to  have  suffered  that  cringing  despicable 
slave-trader  to  have  fairly  out-witted  me,"  said  Grafton  to  himself. 
"  Had  I  driven  him  as  I  ought  from  my  door,  and  forced,  him  to 
take  back  his  hated  gold,  the  worst  that  could  have  happened, 
would  have  been  a  law-suit,  and  yet,  who  could  have  contemplated 
such  a  catastrophe.  I  always  associated  trouble,  in  some  shape, 
with  Emma.  She  has  been  my  evil  genius.  I  attributed  to  her 
the  rejection  by  Helen,  of  my  first  proposals,  and  secretly  did  I 
vow  that  she  should  some  day  deeply  regret  it.  Oh,  how  has 
fate  forced  me  to  the  fulfillment  of  the  promise.  I  ought  never  to 
have  married  Helen.  Pride,  more  than  affection,  stirred  up  within 
me  the  resolution  that  she  should  be  mine,  and  to  what  arts  did  I 
resort ! 

"Affecting  a  feeling  and  tenderness,  which  could  never  have 
place  in  my  icy  nature,  and  putting  on,  like  a  gala-day  garment, 
to  be  laid  aside  with  the  occasion,  virtues  which  would  win  her 
pure  and  gentle  heart.  And  yet  I  loved  her,  was  proud  of  her 
accomplishments,  her  beauty,  her  faultless  manners,  and  had  she 
possessed  a  loftier  and  bolder  spirit,  it  might  have  been  better  for 
both  of  us.  Too  harshly  have  I  dealt  with  one  of  her  disposition. 
By  sometimes  sneering  at  her  ideas  of  duty  and  religion,  and 
ridiculing  all  expressions  of  high  sentiment,  I  think  she  thought  I 
had  deceived  her,  and  confidence  once  shaken,  scarcely  ever  is 
restored.  When  I  have  been  indulging  in  those  fits  of  abstraction 
80  common  to  me,  I  have  seen  her  large  blue  eyes,  overruiming 


A    TALE     OF     SOUTHERN    LIFE.  T5 

with  tears,  fastened  with  a  melancholy  gaze  upon  me,  and,  instead 
of  obeying  the  first  and  best  impulses  of  my  heart,  have  rushed 
rudely  past  her,  with  a  look  of  mingled  pity  and  disgust.  And  the 
severity  with  which,  without  reason  or  cause,  I  treated  Emma, 
when  I  knew  I  inflicted  a  more  cruel  punishment  upon  my  wife, 
than  upon  her  slave,  is  to  me  now  unaccountable. 

"  Away,  with  these  self-reproaches.  Am  I  a  sickly  sentimental 
woman  ?  Why  degrade  my  lion-like  nature  to  that  of  the  whin- 
ing jackal  ?" 

"  I  will  drive  hence  the  grief  which  has  marred  our  beautiful 
home.  I  will  wear  a  face  serene  and  pure,  as  that,  which  the  arch 
deceiver  assumed  when  he  whispered  to  the  ear  of  Eve,  and  make 
Helen  think  this  evil  can  only  be  repaired  by  a  life  of  devotion  to 
the  slaves  upon  our  plantation." 

Frank  Grafton  was  interrupted  in  these  reflections,  which  ha 
was  uttering  to  himself  as  he  rode  over  his  fields,  by  the  approach 
of  his  brother,  who  had  been  vainly  urging  Helen  to  visit 
Virginia. 

"  Well,  Charles,  what  success  have  you  had,  in  your  attempt  to 
heal  the  nervous  disorder  which  so  violently  assails  poor  Helen  ? 
I  have  a  great  mind  to  insist  upon  her  leaving  C6te  Blanche,  and 
in  new  scenes  she  would  soon  forget  the  occurrences,  too  light  to 
disturb  a  mind  of  any  fortitude." 

"  Think  not,  Frank,  of  employing  severe  or  harsh  measures  with 
your  wife.  They  have  already  driven  her  to  the  very  verge  of  the 
grave,"  said  Charles. 

"  What  can  I  do  ?  This  moping  melancholy,"  said  Frank,  "  not 
only  embitters  my  own  life,  but  must,  if  indulged  in,  result  in  con- 
firmed insanity.  Better  to  brave  her  reproaches,  than  witness  the 
wild  ravings  of  madness  and  despair." 

"  How  strange,  with  your  knowledge  of  human  nature,"  said 
Charles,  "  that  you  should  seem  so  ignorant  of  the  real  character 
of  Helen.    You  must  have  won  her  love  by  appearing  to  possess 


76  woman'sfaith. 

an  amiable  and  affectionate  disposition,  and  more  than  all,  by 
inspiring  her  with  the  belief  that  moral  principle  was  the  guide  of 
all  your  conduct.  If  in  this  she  is  deceived,  can  you  be  surprised 
if  she  feels  that  she  has  been  greatly  wronged  ?  Oh,  Frank,  it  is 
pride  which  is  poisoning  the  very  fountain  of  all  that  is  good  and 
generous  in  your  nature,  and  but  for  that,  you  could  yet  repair 
the  past" 

"  I  will  do  it ;  and  yet,  Charles,  to  humble  myself,  even  in  the 
estimation  of  my  wife,  is  a  sacrifice  that  my  whole  soul  revolts 
at.  She  must  see  in  a  change  of  conduct  what  you  would  express 
by  words.  It  is  the  only  compromise  offered  by  my  haughty 
spirit." 

"  What  do  you  propose  to  do  ?"  said  Charles. 

"Why,  I  will  banish  all  sounds  and  sights  of  cruelty  from  the 
plantation,"  said  Frank.  "  I  will  dismiss  my  overseer.  I  will  per- 
suade Helen  to  give  instruction  or  advice  to  the  slaves  on  Sun- 
days, and  perhaps  in  such  occupations,  and  in  the  hope  of  being 
useful  to  them,  she  may  forget  her  own  grief." 

"  Better  to  act  thus,"  said  Charles,  "  even  if  policy  only  dictates 
the  course.  But  of  all  things,  be  sure,  that  if  you  would  hope  for 
a  restoration  for  Helen,  kindness  and  gentleness  will  be  the  only 
medicines  which  can,  in  any  way,  minister  to  her  relief." 

"  I  know  not  what  I  would  do  without  you,  Charles,  for  from 
no  one  but  you  could  I  take  advice,  particularly  when  it  is  min- 
gled with  reproof.  I  will  act  upon  your  suggestions,  and  let  me 
add,  that  I  think  we  should  be  cautious  in  not  appearing  to  direct 
in  any  manner,  the  occupations  of  Helen,  and  not  to  intrude  upon 
her  walks  or  employments,  unless  she  should  seem  to  desire  it." 


A    TALE    OF    SOTJTHEKN     LIFE.  T7 


CHAPTER    XVI. 

Sad  beyond  description,  was  the  beautiful  villa  upon  the  shore 
of  the  Gulf,  which  nature  had  garnished  in  richest  profusion.  No 
longer  were  heard  in  those  halls  the  notes  of  joy  and  gladness. 
The  harp,  which  had  so  often  discoursed  sweet  music  at  the  bid- 
ding of  Helen,  was  now  stilled,  and  the  lightest  foot-fall  awakened 
an  echo  throughout  the  desolate  chambers,  appalling  to  the  heart. 

No  place  to  Helen  seemed  of  interest  but  the  neat  little  enclo- 
sure, where  reposed  the  remains  of  Ida  and  the  faithful  Emma. 
Day  by  day  was  she  occupied  in  decorating  those  mossy  couches 
•with  flowers,  and  weaving  the  wild  rose  and  honeysuckle  midst 
the  creeping  moss,  that  gi-acefully  bound  itself  around  the  arms  of 
a  lofty  oak,  at  whose  feet  were  new-made  graves.  And  most 
touching  was  it  to  listen  to  the  wild  snatches  of  song,  which,  bird- 
like, she  poured  forth  occasionally,  as  if  to  hush  in  sweet  slumbers, 
those  who  were  there  reposing. 

How  delightful  the  thought,  that  the  spirits  of  those  who  are 
loved  and  lost,  may  yet  linger  around  the  resting-places,  which 
afiection  has  reared  and  consecrated,  and  to  which  it  turns  eagerly 
jwid  often,  embalming,  with  more  than  Egyptian  permanency,  all 
that  was  lovely  and  cherished  in  the  dear  departed.  Oh,  how  it 
soothes  the  sorrow  of  my  heart,  to  know  that  the  spirits  of  Ida 
and  Emma  always  "  behold  the  face  of  my  Father." 

Such  were  the  reflections  of  Helen,  as  she  would  return  to  her 
home ;  and  her  husband  and  Charles,  at  times,  greatly  hoped  that 
tlie  soothing  influences  of  the  Bible,  which  was  her  constant  com- 


t%  woman's   faith. 

panion,  and  the  utmost  care  not  to  cross  her  in  her  conduct, 
might  win  her  back  to  happiness  and  peace. 

Either  from  that  waywardness  of  disposition  so  peculiar  to  him, 
or  from  compunctious  visitings  of  conscience,  from  the  terrible 
disaster  which  his  conduct  had  brought  about,  the  whole 
demeanor  of  Frank  Grafton  towards  his  slaves,  was  changed. 
He  discharged  his  overseer,  as  he  said  overseers  were  always 
unnecessarily  severe,  and  took  upon  himself  their  supervision, 
managing  them  all  by  the  most  gentle  and  aflfectionate  govern- 
ment. He  encouraged  by  presents,  those  who  excelled  in  their 
labor  in  the  field,  and  manifested  for  all  of  them  such  an  interest, 
that  with  the  utmost  cheerfulness  they  accomplished  their  tasks, 
in  little  more  than  half  the  time  which  they  had  occupied,  when 
« under  the  lash  of  a  driver.  And  on  Sundays  he  would  see  that 
all  were  dressed  in  their  nicest  apparel,  and  assembling  them  in 
the  beautiful  lawn  before  his  house,  Helen  would  read  to  them 
some  passages  of  Scripture,  and  with  a  word  of  advice  and  affec- 
tion for  all,  with  bright  and  happy  hearts,  they  would  return  to 
their  cottages. 

"  I  never  believed  before,  Charles,  how  much  might  be  done  by 
a  quasi  parental  government  with  slaves.  They  now  come  to  me 
with  all  their  diflSculties,  and  finding  me  interested  to  relieve 
them — knowing  that  I  do  not  exact  their  labor  by  the  lash,  but 
that  they  are  rewarded  for  honest  industry,  it  has  created  such  an 
emulation  among  them,  that  the  plantation  already  wears  a  new 
aspect,  and  never  had  we  such  a  promise  of  an  abundant  crop.  I 
will  never  employ  another  overseer,  but  will  take  upon  myself  the 
oversight  of  my  slaves  and  property." 

"  You  are  right,  Frank,  in  the  plan  you  have  adopted,  and  sure 
I  am,  at  the  end  of  the  year,  you  will  find  your  plantation 
improved,  your  crops  increased,  the  value  of  your  slaves  enhanced 
a  thousand  fold ;  for  instead  of  being  discontented,  surly  and  dis- 
obedient, they  would  become  docile,  affectionate  and  industrious. 


A    TALE     OF     SOUTHEEN     LIFE.  ^' 

And,  more  than  all — aye,  a  thousand  times  more,  they  would,  by 
this  very  means,  become  fitted  to  enjoy  the  blessings  of  freedom. 
"Would  to  God,  planters  generally  would  adopt  this  course. 

"  How  much  of  heartless  cruelty  would  be  saved ;  and  by  acts 
of  kindness  on  the  one  part,  and  docility  on  the  other,  would  be 
ushered  in  the  morning  of  that  millennial  day  of  freedom,  aad 
happiness  to  millions  of  slaves. 

"  From  the  lips  of  our  great  Jefferson  T  have  learned  to  abhor 
all  slavery,  and  in  his  plans  for  a  gradual  emancipation,  have 
hoped  to  see  the  whole  system  eradicated  and  destroyed.  But 
we  have  no  time  now  for  a  further  discussion,  for  I  see  Helen 
approaching,  and  I  have  persuaded  her  to  accompany  me  in  an 
excursion  about  the  island.  «  How  sad,  how  melancholy,  she 
always  appears.  If  we  cannot  induce  her  to  leave  this  spot, 
rely  upon  it,  the  associations  connected  with  it,  the  indulgence  of 
that  rooted  sorrow,  which  yields  to  no  persuasion,  will  overthrow 
her  intellect,  or  bring  her  prematurely  to  her  grave." 

At  times,  while  driving  along  the  wild  paths,  unobstructed  by 
any  undergrowth,  and  which  were  protected  from  the  rays  of  the 
sun,  by  the  deep  shade,  cast  by  the  large  leafy  magnolias,  Helen 
would  seem  to  forget  her  grief,  in  the  versatility  of  Charles's  con- 
versation, and  gazing  upon  the  beauties  of  the  scenery  ever  exhi- 
bited on  their  ride :  and  at  the  urgent  request  of  her  brother,  she 
promised  to  devote  herself  more  to  domestic  avocations,  and  in  a 
few  days,  to  set  off,  for  a  short  visit,  to  the  family  of  Lefort 


80*  woman's   faith 


CHAPTER  XVII. 

What  a  joyous  happy  household  is  Lefort's,  such  an  assemblage 
of  all  the  virtues,  graces,  and  amenities  of  life. 

These  are  the  fruitful  sources  of  a  peace,  and  happiness  perennial, 
flowing  on  as  steadily,  as  the  waters  of  the  bayou,  which  quietly 
glide  by  their  dwelling,  clear,  and  calm  as  the  last  lingering  rays 
of  the  gorgeous  sun-setting,  whose  golden  hues  are  now  painting, 
with  such  transcendent  beauty,  every  leaf  and  flower  of  this  unri- 
valled landscape. 

"  Oh,  Helen,"  said  Charles  Grafton,  "  there  are  no  people,  who  so 
well  understand  the  philosophy  of  happiness,  as  do  the  French. 
Contented  with  what  they  possess,  free  from  that  foolish  ambition, 
to  acquire  more  wealth  than  their  neighbors,  literally  adopting 
and  acting  upon  the  injunction,  '  take  no  thought  for  the  morrow, 
for  the  morrow  shall  take  thought  for  itself,  suflScient  unto  the 
day  is  the  evil  thereof,'  they  pass  quietly  and  happily  down  the 
stream  of  life,  unruffled  by  its  cares,  undisturbed  by  its  disap- 
pointments." 

I  admire  as  you  do,  Charles,"  replied  Helen,  "  many  of  the  char- 
acteristics of  the  gay  and  pleasure  seeking  Frenchman,  but  while 
he  obeys  the  injunction,  you  have  quoted,  does  he  equally  regard 
the  precept  in  the  same  connection.  Seek  ye  first,  the  kingdom 
of  God,  and  his  righteousness :  As  far  as  I  have  been  enabled 
to  look  into  the  history  of  the  Gallic  race,  it  has  seemed  to  me,  that 
they  seek  their  happiness,  in  the  pleasures  and  gaieties  of  life,  little 
regarding  that  future  existence,  for  which  this  is  but  a  preparation. 


A    TALE    OF    80UTH£BN     LIFE.  81 

This  remark  will  not  apply  to  the  Leforts,  for  the  adversities  and 
trials  through  which  they  have  passed,  have  had  their  designed 
effect,  teaching  them  abhorence  for  those  atheistical  sentiments  so 
prevalent  in  their  native  land,  and  inculcating  a  sweet  and  beauti- 
ful submission  to  all  the  allotments  of  that  Being,  who  had  so  sig- 
nally conducted  them  by  a  way,  which  they  knew  not.  But 
it  is  time,  Charles,  that  we  retrace  our  steps,  and  return  to  Mr.  Le- 
fort's." 

Upon  their  arrival  at  the  foot  of  the  lawn,  which  embraced 
in  their  whole  extent,  some  hundreds  of  acres,  Blanche  met  them, 
and  with  affectionate  caresses,  welcomed  Helen  back  to  the  house." 
"  Mother  was  apprehensive,  that  you  were  extending  your  walk  too 
far,  and  bade  me  hasten  your  return,  fearful  that  you  might  suffer 
from  the  dew  at  nightfall." 

"  I  live  out  doors,  dear  Blanche,  and  am  not  afraid  of  the  dews, 
yet  I  am  much  obliged  to  the  kindness  of  your  mother.  I  fear  I 
have  kept  your  tea  in  waiting,  so  we  will  hurry  home,  notwith- 
standing the  tempting  allurements  of  these  charming  grounds." 

They  found  in  the  hall  Mr,  and  Mrs.  Lefort,  both  of  whom  were 
assiduous  in  their  attentions  to  the  -fair,  yet  now  pale,  and  delicate 
Helen,  upon  whose  sweet  face,  sorrow  had  graven,  in  deep  Iggible 
lines,  a  most  touching  history, 

Louise  was  absent  for  the  moment,  upon  some  domestic  employ- 
ment, preparing  perhaps  some  delicacy,  for  their  visitor.  The 
evening  repast  being  over,  all  were  assembled  in  a  large  drawing 
room  and  the  hours  were  cheered  by  the  most  animated  conversa- 
tion, while  Mr.  Lefort  was  examining  with  Helen,  some  extensive 
pictures  of  French  scenery,  the  work  of  the  finest  artists,  to  which 
he  imparted  a  strong  additional  interest,  by  the  clear  and  interes- 
ting explanations  he  gave  of  these  scenes  of  trans- Atlantic  beauty. 

Blanche  occasionally  warbled  some  sweet  ballad,  while  Louise 
vith  her  embroidery  on  her  lap,  was  carrying  on  a  lively  and  in- 
teresting discussion  with  Charles  Grafton  upon  the  comparative 

4* 


82  woman'sfaith. 

advantages  of  city  and  rural  life.  And  thiis  the  evening  wore 
pleasantly  away,  when  upon  Mrs.  Lefort's  suggesting,  that  it  might 
be  agreeable  to  Helen  to  retire  to  her  chamber,  Mr.  Lefort  open- 
ing the  Bible,  as  was  his  custom,  morning  and  evening,  read  one 
of  those  beautiful  psalms,  descriptive  of  the  angel  of  Jehovah  en- 
camping around  those  that  fear  him.  Louise  and  Blanche  sang 
most  touchingly  the  hymn  commencing, 

"  Glory  to  thee,  My  God  this  night, 
For  all  the  blessings  of  the  light ; 
Keep  me,  0,  keep  me,  King  of  kings. 
Beneath  the  shadow  of  thy  wings." 

The  service  ended  by  a  beautiful  invocation,  in  which  mercies 
received,  were  gratefully  and  filially  acknowledged,  and  the  kind 
care  of  Him,  who  never  slumbers,  was  sought ;  when  ofiering  thanks- 
giving for  social  intercourse,  Mr.  Lefort  asked  an  especial  bless- 
ing for  Helen ;  he  prayed  that  God  "  would  temper  the  wind  to 
the  shorn  lamb ;"  his  voice  trembled  with  emotion  almost  inex- 
pressible. Helen  found,  in  this  charming  family,  a  balm  and  a 
solace,  which  had  long  been  a  stranger  to  her  breast ;  and  gladly 
accepted  the  offer  of  Blanche  as  a  room-mate,  as  her  husband  was 
detained  by  sickness  on  the  plantation.  Day  followed  day  in 
quick  succession  filled  up  by  agreeable  occupation.  Mr.  Lefort 
rode  with  Helen  about  his  grounds,  and  sought,  in  every  way,  to 
divert  her  from  those  gloomy  subjects,  which  had  almost  bereft 
her  of  reason,  and  quite  undermined  her  health,  while  within  doors, 
some  new  diversion  was  frequently  planned,  to  give  a  new  direc- 
tion to  her  thoughts  and  reflections. 


A    TALE    OF    SOUTHERN     LIFE.  83 


CHAPTER     XVIII. 

"  Do  you  not,  Miss  Lefort,"  said  Charles  Grafton,  "  ever  sigh  for 
a  return  to  the  vine-clad  hills  of  your  native  France  ?  I  should 
scarcely  think  that  your  pleasure-loving  heart  would  be  contented 
in  a  change  from  all  the  gaieties  of  the  most  fashionable  life  to 
a  home  so  secluded  and  quiet  as  Oak  Lawn." 

"  Then  you  think  me  frivolous,"  replied  Blanche,  "  and  that  like 
a  painted  butterfly,  I  could  live  only  in  the  sunbeams,  which  gild 
the  home  of  the  votary  of  mere  amusement." 

"  Pardon  me,  Miss  Lefort,  nothing  was  further  from  my  mind. 
Will  you  permit  me  to  say  that  no  one  could  took  upon  your  face, 
yet  beaming  with  bright,  glad  thoughts,  without  thinking  that 
yours  was  a  spirit,  which  ever  revelled  in  the  pleasure  imparted  by 
cultivated  and  refined  society,  in  the  admiration  of  the  works  of 
art,  in  viewing  scenes,  that  valor  has  immortalized,  or  that  have 
been  clothed  with  a  living,  ever-enujring  beauty  by  the  magic 
power  of  genius  ?  And  is  it  strange  that  I  should  have  asked 
you,  if  you  never  cast  back  one  lingering,  sorrowing  look  upon  all 
this  which  you  have  abandoned  ?" 

"  I  confess,  Mr.  Grafton,  that  for  a  while,  I  was  afflicted  with 
home-sickness ;  but  I  have  borrowed  relief  and  contentment  from 
the  philosophy  of  Louise,  and  I  am  happy  here  in  our  rural  and 
quiet  home." 

"  How  do  you  amuse  yourself  ?  And  do  not  the  long  hours  of 
a  summer's  day  hang  wearily  upon  your  hands  ?"  said  Charles. 

"  Father  has  given  me  a  gallant  little  steed,  that  seems  to  enjoy 
a  gallop  with  me  over  the  prairies,  as  if  I  were  his  companion. 


84  woman's  faith. 

You  would  be  surprised  at  the  playful  intelligence  he  exhibits.  Ho 
seems  to  understand  my  right  of  ownership,  as  though  he  carried 
with  him  a  written  transfer ;  for  the  other  day,  when  the  servant 
mounted  him,  to  take  him  to  the  door,  he  reared  and  plunged 
most  furiously,  until  he  had  thrown  his  rider.  He  seemed  so  wild, 
mother  and  Louise  begged  me  not  to  attempt  to  ride  him.  All 
this  time,  little  Fairy,  as  I  call  him,  appeared  so  humble  and 
docile,  that  I  laughed  at  their  fears,  and  jumped  into  the  saddle, 
and  never  did  I  find  him  so  charming  in  his  gait  and  so  perfectly 
tractable.  And  would  you  believe  it,  father  has  so  taught  me  the 
use  of  the  gun,  that  from  the  tallest  tree  in  the  forest,  I  can  bring 
down  a  squirrel,  and  am  sure  of  my  game,  when  I  shoot  at  the 
plover  upon  the  wing.  So  you  see,  for  outdoor  employment,  I  am 
well  provided." 

"  But  your  occupation  during  the  many  hours,  which  a  warm 
Bun  will  not  permit  you  to  pass  unsheltered  by  the  house.  How 
are  they  all  filled  up,  Miss  Lefort  ?" 

"  Men  have  no  curiosity,  I  see,"  Blanche  archly  replied,  "  but  as 
mere  information  I  will  tell  you.  The  hours  seem  all  but  too 
short  when  I  find  myself  with  father,  in  the  library,  amusing 
myself  with  books,  and  listening  to  replies  he  makes  me  of  scenes 
and  courts  described  in  the  volume  I  may  be  reading ;  then  music, 
conversations,  calls  and  visits,  all  these  so  occupy  and  busy  me, 
that  I  welcome  the  hour  when  mother  sends  me  off  to  sleep  and 
dreams." 

"1  hope.  Miss  Blanche,  the  health  of  Helen  will  be  so  improved 
by  her  viat  kere,  that  we  may  again  see  you  at  C6te  Blanche. 
With  your  sister  and  Mr.  Burns,  we  might  make  a  delightful 
party,  and  I  should  then,  in  our  yacht  upon  the  bay,  have  an 
opportunity  to  test  your  skill  as  an  angler.  I  should  like  to  see 
you  when  a  large  red-fish  was  nibbling  at  your  hook,  and  witness 
your  anxiety  and  dexterity  as  you  draw  the  stout,  handsome  fish 
from  his  native  element." 


A     TALE     OF     BOUTHEKN     LIFE.  85 

"  Oh,  it  would  be  charming,  I  have  heard  so  much,"  said  Blanche, 
"  of  these  fishing  parties,  and  never  yet  have  had  the  pleasure  of 
joining  them." 

"  We  will  get  up  such  a  party.  Miss  Blanche,  and  you  shall 
taste  the  red-fish,  the  sheep's  head  and  the  pompano,  fresh  from 
our  waters,  and  I  think  you  will  say,  that  for  sweetness  and 
delicacy,  no  fish  can  rival  them.  But  if  you  are  not  an  early 
riser,  you  cannot  be  a  successful  fisherman,  for  at  the  earliest  dawn 
of  day  he  sits  in  his  boat  and  watches  his  line,  for  shoals  of  red- 
fish  are  then  swimming  about,  hungry  for  their  morning  repast." 

"  I  have  learned  to  enjoy  the  first  breath  of  the  morning,"  said 
•Blanche.  "  My  rides  with  father,  upon  the  prairie,  have  taught  me 
how  much  they  lose,  who  have  never  witnessed  the  freshened  beau- 
ties, with  which  night  clothes  our  variegated  landscapes.  I  shall 
take  my  usual  excursion  to-morrow,  and  if  you  rise  betimes,  we 
shall  be  glad  to  have  you  join  us." 

"Nothing  would  affbrd  me  more  pleasure,  and  I  shall  hold 
myself  in  readiness  for  the  acceptance  of  your  kind  and  polite 
invitation." 

At  the  appointed  hour  Blanche  found  Charles  with  her  father  in 
the  hall. 

Mr.  Lefort  invited  Mr.  Grafton  to  take  his  horse,  as  some 
engagement  at  home  would  make  it  inconvenient  for  him  to  join 
them. 

"  Blanche,"  said  Lefort,  "  is  so  experienced  and  so  thoroughly 
acquainted  with  every  path  that  leads  through  the  prairies,  that 
you  will  excuse  me  if  I  remain  at  home  this  morning." 


86  woman'sfaith. 


# 


CHAPTER   XIX. 

"  Now  tell  me,  Mr.  Grafton,  what  is  there  in  city  life  more 
charming  than  a  ride  like  this  ? 

"  Who  of  all  those,  who  crowd  those  busy  marts  of  trade,  shut 
up  as  they  are  within  walls  of  brick  and  mortar,  ever  feel  the 
elasticity  and  vigor,  which  are  imparted  by  this  healthful  exercise 
and  this  pure  balmy,  invigorating  air  ?" 

"  And  I  see,  Miss  Blanche,"  said  Charles,  "  upon  your  cheeks 
a  rosy  tint,  which  a  city  belle  would  give  worlds  to  possess,  and 
which  some,  I  suspect,  vainly  attempt  to  imitate  with  borrowed  color- 
ing. No  art  can  rival  the  blush,  which  pure  country  air  will  paint 
upon  the  cheek,  no  skill  can  give  that  symmetry  to  the  form,  built 
up  by  that  vigorous  health,  wh\ch  rural  occupations  always  sup- 
plies. But,  Miss  Lefort,  while  I  am  free  to  admit  the  beauty  of 
your  landscape  and  the  charm  of  your  delightful  climate,  still  for 
me,  I  fear  more  active  scenes  would  be  requisite  for  enjoyment. 
In  other  words,  I  should  feel  that  I  had  nothing  to  do." 

"  Are  you  not  fond  of  agricultural  pursuits  ?  Has  a  large  plan- 
tation no  charms  for  you  ?" 

"  I  ought  perhaps  to  be  ashamed  to  admit  it,"  said  Charles, 
"  but  my  life  has  been  without  a  purpose." 

"  I  am  surprised,  Mr.  Grafton,  at  such  a  remark.    The  avenues 
to  fame  and  fortune  all  open  before  you,  how  great  are  the  incite 
ments  to  exertion !" 

**  And  yet,  Miss  Lefort,  without  the  consciousness  that  some  ono 


A    TALE    OF     SOUTHERN     LIFE.  87 

would  smile  upon  those  efforts,  or  rejoice  in  their  success,  it  is 
difficult  to  employ  the  necessary  labor." 

"  You  have  ambition,  and  would  not  success  bring  with  it,  hosts 
of  admirers  and  friends  ?"  said  Blanche.  "  How  great  the  happi- 
ness must  he  feel,  who  has  just  left  the  popular  assembly  or  the 
court-room,  as  he  hears  his  name  in  every  voice,  and  from  every 
lip  pronounced  the  highest  enconiums  upon  his  eloquence." 

"  Could  I  awaken  in  your  heart,  the  smallest  desire  that  such 
fame  should  be  mine  ?"  said  Grafton. 

"Surely,  Mr.  Grafton,  I  always  rejoice  in  the  happiness  of  my 
friends,  and  I  hope  you  permit  me  to  consider  you  on  the  list." 

"  I  mean,  Misi^  Lefort,  I  should  say,  that" 

"  Now  don't,  Mr.  Grafton,  waste  any  of  your  high  powers  in. 
making  gallant  speeches  to  me,  merely  to  show  your  ability.  I 
am  sure  you  possess  sufficient  talent  and  you  only  require  the  will 
to  make  yourself  eminent  in  any  calling  in  life." 

Charles  was  a  little  piqued  at  the  determination  of  Blanche  to 
give  such  a  turn  to  his  remarks ;  he  would  if  possible  learn  from 
her,  whether  she  entertained  for  him  any  other  regard  than  that 
inspired  by  a  mere  acquaintanceship. 

"Tell  me,  Miss  Lefort,  if  by  years  of  devotion  to  literary  or 
professional  pursuits,  I  should  have  the  good  fortune  to  win  a 
name  and  a  distinction  worthy," 

"  Oh,"  interrupted  Blanche,  "  I  will  wreathe  for  your  victorious 
brow,  a  chaplet,  green  and  fresh,  from  the  leaves  of  our  live  oaks 
and  laurel.  But  we  are  near  home,  Mr.  Grafton,  has  not  your 
ride  given  you  an  appetite  for  breakfast  ?  Romance  will  hardly  do 
as  a  substitute  for  that  meal,  when  a  two  hours'  ride  has  given 
one  a  desire  for  rolls  and  coffee." 

"  You  are  provoking,  Miss  Lefort.  Your  ingenuity  in  giving 
such  turn  to  the  thoughts  and  expressions  of  another  is  une- 
qualled." 

"  You  misjudge  me,  Mr.  Grafton.    You  know  that  we  poor  deli- 


m 


88  WOMAN     8FAITH. 

cate  females  shrink  from  the  compliments,  which  your  sex  seem 
to  consider  it  necessary  to  lavish  upon  us.  I  will  consider  them 
all  spoken  in  your  very  best  and  most  gracious  manner,  and  that 
I  am  largely  your  debtor." 

What  would  Charles  have  giv^en,  tow  that  the  ice  was  partially 
broken,  to  have  revealed  to  Blanche,  the  passion,  which  her  fasci- 
nating manners,  conversation  and  beauty  had  inspired. 

She  treated  him  with  that  cordiality  and  politeness,  and  yet 
with  such  ease  and  freedom,  that  it  was  impossible  for  him  to 
gain  the  least  insight  to  that  heart,  which  he  would  have  given 
worlds  to  possess. 

He  feared  to  make  a  distinct  and  bold  proposition.  He  wished 
if  posssible,  to  create  such  an  interest,  that  during  his  absence,  no 
other  favored  swain  might  supplant  him. 

"  With  what  ardor  and  devotion  would  I  apply  myself  to  those 
pursuits,  those  studies,  which  would  mould  such  a  character,  as 
even  Blanche  would  admire.  With  what  eagerness  would  I  culti- 
vate all  my  powers,  studying  the  best  models,  communing  day 
and  night,  with  those  old  masters,  who,  by  their  matchless 
eloquence,  held,  spell  bound,  listening  senates  and  popular  assem- 
blies :  if,  by  one  word,  she  would  whisper  to  the  ear  of  hope,  an 
assurance,  that  her  smile  should  be  the  guerdon  of  success,  toil 
would  be  a  recreation 

"  Then  indeed  would  life  have  an  object.  And  yet  why  should 
I  aspire  to  her  hand  I  Why  expect  any  encouragement,  of  my 
passion,  while  I  admit  to  her,  that  my  existence,  is  without  an  aim  ? 

"  I  will  at  Once  shake  oflF  the  lethargy,  which  has  so  long  been 
permitted  to  take  possession  of  my  mind,  and  will  trust  to  the 
future,  the  realization  of  those  golden  dreams,  with  which  fancy 
has  beguiled  so  many  hours  of  my  being."*  With  such  reflections, 
Charles  came  from  his  room  to  the  breakfast  table,  and,  by  his 
manly  and  eloquent  conversation,  fascinated  still  more  the  warm 
and  sensitive  heart  of  Blanche. 


A     TALE     OF     SOUTHERN     LIFE.  89 

All  were  captivated  by  tlie  beautiful  descriptions  he  gave  them 
of  his  native  Virginia,  the  hills  that  lifted  their  blue  ridges  up  to 
the  storm-king's  home,  the  valleys  at  their  feet  smiling  in  perpe- 
tual verdure,  the  streams  gracefully  meandering,  now  through 
meadows  radiant  in  their  rich  luxuriance,  and  anon  leaping  wildly 
along  their  rocky  beds,  as  if  enjoying  some  sportive  gambol  with 
the  naiads  of  the  river. 

And  then  he  amused  them  by  anecdotes  of  those  distinguished 
men,  who  had  there  enkindled  into  a  blaze  the  revolutionary  feel- 
ing, aroused  by  arbitrary  exaction,  on  the  part  of  the  Mother 
Country,  and  of  the  matchless  wisdom  and  prudence  of  those  who 
helped  to  form  the  Constitution  of  the  Country,  and  make  it  accept- 
able to  the  people.  Here  he  appeared  perfectly  at  home.  He 
had  made  himself  familiar  with  the  history  of  his  country — with 
the  origin  of  the  struggle  with  England,  and  personally  acquainted 
with  the  men  who  took  part  in  it,  he  could  make  himself  unusu- 
ally agreeable  upon  topics  that,  of  all  others,  were  most  interesting 
to  Mr.  Lefort. 

How  was  his  bosom  agitated,  as  he  would  sometimes  catch  the 
eye  of  Blanche,  when  it  kindled  with  pleasure,  from  these  conver- 
sations. 

Has  not  the  heart  a  language,  all  its  own?  Are  there  no 
voices  of  the  spirit,  which,  to  the  ear,  are  unheard  ?  If  not,  why 
then  did  the  heart  of  Charles  beat  with  new  and  strong  aspirations, 
as  he  gazed  into  those  deep  blue  orbs,  which  smiled  so  winningly, 
and  why  did  Blanche  feel  a  pride  and  a  joy  in  the  revelation  of 
so  much  talent  in  her  young  and  handsome  admirer? 

Helen  had  now  passed  a  week  at  the  hospitable  mansion  of 
Lefort.  So  agreeably  had  every  hour  been  filled  up — so  varied 
her  employment,  that  she  could  scarcely  have  told  how  she  had 
been  occupied.  Her  drives  over  the  extended  and  beautiful  prai- 
ries, her  walks  along  the  banks  of  the  bayou,  with  Blanche,  at 


90  woman'sfaith. 

evening,  when  a  declining  sun  was  lending  a  softened,  mellowing 
glow  to  the  beautiful  wild-flowers,  that  mantled  the  earth  and 
crept  up  the  trees  which  shaded  their  path ;  the  charming  tete-ii,- 
tete  with  Mr.  Lefort  and  Louise,  all  combined,  had  winged  the 
hours  of  each  passing  day,  furnishing  "  a  sweet  oblivious  antidote  " 
for  that  sad  melancholy,  which  had  been  so  busy  at  her  heart. 
She  had  retired  to  her  chamber,  and  opening  her  trunk,  her  eye 
fell  upon  the  letter  of  poor  Emma,  marred  by  scalding  tears,  which 
intensest  agony  had  wrung  out  from  those  large,  lustrous  eyes, 
that  had  just  been  gazing  for  the  last  time,  upon  the  love'd  face  of 
of  her  almost  idolized  mistress.  As  she  read  it,  and  kissed  the 
golden  ringlet  of  little  Ida,  her  own  bosom  heaved  with  inexpress- 
ible emotions,  and  she  burst  into  a  flood  of  tears.  "  Is  it  possible 
that  I  have,  amidst  the  enticing,  fascinating  scenes  of  Oak  Lawn — 
the  almost  enchanting  society  of  this  hospitable  family — can  it  be 
that  I  have  forgotten  my  first-born,  my  beautiful  Ida,  and  her 
whose  life  has  been  consecrated  to  my  happiness,  and  whose  last 
hours  were  embittered  from  the  fear  that  sorrow  might  darken 
my  pathway  ?  O  Emma,  hadst  thou  died  in  thy  bed,  could  I 
have  been  with  thee  in  that  dark  hour,  have  read  to  thee  but  one 
verse  of  that  sweet  word,  and  pointed  thee  to  Him  who  hath  said, 
"  When  the  waters  overflow  thee,  I  will  be  with  thee,"  I  could 
have  calmly  closed  thine  eyes,  and  deposited  thy  coflBned  form  by 
the  side  of  my  sweet  Ida,  and  hushed  all  repinings  in  the  sweet 
consciousness  that  "  He  doeth  all  things  well."  But,  0,  the  guilt, 
the  sin  I  sure  I  am  that  Mrs.  Lefort  must  regard  it  as  I  do — as 
must  all  just,  disinterested,  intelligent  minds,  and  more  than  all, 
as  does  the  all-seeing,  impartial  eye  of  Infinite  Justice.  Dare  I 
hope  to  escape  from  the  penalty  which  my  share  in  this  terrible 
tragedy  must  necessarily  bring  upon  me  ?  True,  no  human  tribu- 
nal calls  us  to  account — no  punishment  from  man,  under  his 
limited  and  partial  administration,  demands  an  expiation  for  the 


ATALE     OF     80UTHEKN     LIFE.  91 

life  of  this  murdered  one,  but,  0, 1.hear  upon  every  returning  wave 
that  washes  the  shore  at  Cote  Blanche,  "  the  voice  of  thy  brother's 
blood  crieth  unto  me  from  the  ground." 

"  It  seems  to  me  sinful,  to  indulge  in  the  pleasures  and  amuse- 
ments of  those  whose  pure,  peaceful  lives  are  a  constant,  speaking 
rebuke  upon  blood-guiltiness. 

"  I  will,  I  must  immediately  return  to  Cote  Blanche,  and  in  some 
way  there  make  atonement  for  a  wrong,  which  rivers  of  tears 
would  be  unavailing  to  efface." 

Helen  excused  herself  from  returning  to  the  parlor  this  evening, 
saying  she  would  try  and  sleep  off  a  severe  headache.  The  quick 
eye  of  Blanche  detected  that  Helen  had  been  suffering  deeply, 
and  though  her  native  delicacy  would  not  permit  her  to  intrude 
upon  Ihe  private  griefs  of  a  guest,  who  had  won  for  herself  the 
love  and  sympathy  of  all  at  Oak  Lawn,  she  employed  every  ex- 
pedient within  her  power  to  chase  away  the  gloom,  which  she  saw 
was  darkening  the  mind  of  Helen. 

Bidding  her  a  sweet  good  night,  she  hoped,  that  sleep  would, 
as  it  always  did  to  her  own  guiltless  heart,  bring  repose  and  peace, 
and  soothe  the  almost  distracted  bosom  of  the  fair  sufferer.  When 
Mr.  Grafton  came  from  the  parlor,  Helen  said  she  would  join  him, 
on  the  morrow,  in  his  return  to  C6te  Blanche,  and  though  he 
feared  somewhat  the  effect  of  the  associations  of  that  spot,  the 
terrible  remembrances,  which  those  scenes  must  awaken  in  her 
memory,  he  dared  not  resist  the  strongly  expressed  wishes  of  his 
wife,  and  consenting  to  the  proposal,  Helen  packed  up  her  trunks 
in  preparation  for  her  departure. 

In  the  morning  the  family  of  Lefort  were  surprised  upon  seeing 
Helen  attired  in  her  travelling  dress,  and  with  all  the  earnestness 
which  propriety  would  permit,  urged  her  to  review* her  determi- 
nation, and  remain  a  few  days  longer.  Helen  gratefully  acknow- 
ledged the  kind  civilities  of  the  family,  but  said  she  must  return, 


92  woman's     FAITH. 

and  hoped  that  they  might  be  permitted  soon  to  welcome  each 
one  of  that  happy  household  at  C6te  Blanche. 

"  And  you,  dear  Louise,  so  experienced,  so  skilled  in  horseman- 
ship, and  so  early  a  riser  too,  would  find  no  difficulty  in  coming 
any  day  and  joining  us  at  dinner,  and  sure  I  am,  glancing  at  the 
handsome  figure  of  Burns,  who  stood  at  her  side,  you  will  not  have 
too  look  far,  for  a  gallant  Squire  to  accompany  you  on  your  excur- 
sion." 

"  Mr.  Bums,"  archly  replied  Louise,  "  is  so  in  love  with  his  law- 
books, and  so  enamored  of  the  society  of  the  fair  Dulcineas  in  the 
quiet  little  village  of  Attakapas,  that  it  would  be  a  large  draft  .upon 
his  gallantry  for  so  long  an  expedition." 

"  A  draft.  Miss  Louise,  which  I  shall  very  surely  not  dishonor, 
even  at  the  risk  of  losing  the  good  esteem  of  those  village  maid- 
ens, whom  you  seem  to  think  so  captivating,  and  you  will  not 
regard  it  as  flattering,  when  comparing  the  pleasure  to  be  derived 
from  communion  with  Blackstone  or  Justinian  with  yourself,  I 
should  take  the  liberty  of  preferring  the  latter.  So  I  here  promise 
Mrs.  Grafton,  that  I  shall  early  use  such  poor  powers  of  persuasion 
as  I  may  possess  to  induce  Miss  Louise  to  accept  your  invitation, 
with  the  best  offices  of  tiie  Squire,  you  have  pointed  out  as  her 
escort." 

Accepting  the  affectionate  adieus  of  the  hospitable  family,  with 
whom  she  had  so  agreeably  passed  the  last  two  weeks,  she  set  out 
with  her  husband  and  Charles  Grafton,  for  their  home  upon  the 
sea. 

"  What  a  charming,  fascinating  being  is  Mrs.  Grafton,"  said  Mrs. 
Lefort,  as  the  receding  form  of  Helen  was  being  lost  in  the  dis- 
tance on  her  way  to  her  sad  home.  "Her  manners  are  so  natural, 
so  unaffected,  her  intelligence  so  rare,  and  the  purity  of  her  soul 
BO  almost  angelic,  I  could  not  bear  to  part  with  her." 

**  Do  not,  mother,  call  her  Mrs.  Grafton,"  said  Louise.    "  There 


A   TALE     OF     80UTHEBN     LIFE.  93 

is  something  so  sinister  in  the  very  expression  of  the  face  of  her  hus- 
band, so  much  of  heartlessness  exhibited  occasionally  in  his  con- 
versation, and  that  cruel  conduct  of  his,  which  has,  I  feared,  des- 
troyed for  ever  the  peace  of  mind  of  his  lovely  wife,  that  I  cannot 
bear  to  think  of  him,  in  association  with  so  much  sweetness, 
purity  and  truth.  I  shall  always  call  her  Helen,  and  should 
gladly  blot  out  from  my  vocabulary,  the  very  name  of  Graf- 
ton." 

"  You  are  quite  too  severe,  my  daughter ;  at  least  your  language 
might  bear  an  extent  to  which  I  should  be  unwilling,"  said  Mr. 
Lefort,  "  to  follow  you,  and  upon  reflection,  I  think  you  yourself, 
would  desire  to  limit  it.  The  conduct  of  Frank  Grafton  in  con- 
nection with  the  death  of  the  unfortunate  Emma  surely  can  admit 
of  no  justification.  Not  that  I  think,  he  intended  or  dreamed  of 
Buch  a  fatal  result,  but  there  was  such  a  trifling  upon  so  serious  a 
matter,  so  foolish  and  so  ill  considered  conduct,  which  under  any 
circumstances,  was  calculated  so  seriously  to  affect  the  happiness 
of  two  innocent  beings,  that  I  can  attribute  it  to  nothing  but  the 
coldest  unconcern,  where  all  should  have  been  affection  and  con- 
fiding trust.  Bitterly,  most  bitterly,  has  he  repented  the  result  of 
his  rash  act,  and  well  I  know,  he  would  give  all  he  possesses,  could 
he  restore  to  life  the  ever  faithful  attendant  upon  his  wife  and 
child.  But  I  was  about  to  say,  that  the  name  of  Grafton  has 
not  been  dishonored  in  the  character  of  his  brother  Charles,  for 
rarely  have  I  met  with  a  person  of  a  more  elevated  and  chivalrous 
bearing,  of  more  noble  and  exalted  sentiments.  Self-sacrificing 
and  yet  proud  to  a  degree,  noble  and  generous  in  his  nature,  with 
a  heart,  warm  and  affectionate  as  a  woman's,  and  yet  courageous 
as  a  lion,  when  danger  is  imminent  and  near,  intelligent  and 
manly,  he  has  impressed  me  greatly  in  his  favor." 

At  this  warm  and  eulogistic  defence  of  Charles  Grafton,  the 
face  of  Blanche  mantled  with  blushes,  and  she  hastily  retreated 
from  the  room  to  cover  all  observation  of  a  feeling,  which  she 


94  woman'sfaith. 

would  not  for  the  world  have  disclosed,  and  which  she  felt  herself 
powerless  to  conceal. 

"  I  confess,  dear  father,  that  I  was  too  impulsive  in  the  expres- 
sion of  my  opinion,  so  far  as  Charles  is  concerned,  his  devotion  to 
his  sister  has  won  from  me  a  very  high  regarfl,  but  I  am  really 
afraid  of  Frank,  and  nothing  now,  in  my  opinion,  restrains  him 
but  absolute  -fear  that  his  cruelty  will  drive  to  desperation  the  only 
being  who  has  any  influence  over  him.  Never  did  I  feel  a  deeper 
sympathy  for  any  one  than  I  do  for  Helen." 

"  How  powerless  are  human  laws  for  the  punishment  of 
offences,"  said  William  Bums.  "  I  have  had  some  little  experi- 
ence in  criminal  proceedings,  and  while  I  have  seen  the  poor, 
and  miserable,  and  degraded  of  our  race  punished  for  crimes 
which  temptations,  lion-like  in  their  power,  have  made  almost 
irresistible,  in  almost  all  cases  the  wealthy,  those  whom  the  world 
calls  great,  escape  detection.  And  were  I  to  search  the  whole 
record  of  crime,  the  blackest  page  which  the  wickedness  of  the 
world  has  unfolded,  would  disclose  no  offence  so  malignant  in  its 
design,  so  deserving  of  retribution,  as  the  murder  of  Emma.  And 
who  was  the  murderer  ?  Who  will  be  arraigned  at  the  Court  of 
Heaven,  when  He,  "  who  makes  inquisition  of  blood,"  shall  render 
the  final  and  just  decision  upon  this  act  of  more  than  fiendish 
cruelty  ?  Was  the  poor  slave  girl  Emma  to  blame  ?  She  had 
been  reared  with  the  greatest  care  and  tenderness,  the  unfolding 
of  her  character  had  been  under  the  influences  and  teachings  of 
a  pure  and  beautiful  morality ;  the  earliest  and  warmest  gushings 
of  her  heart  were  drawn  out  of  those  well-springs  of  aff'ection  and 
love,  which  are  ever  found  pure  and  deep  in  these  children  of 
dependence.  And  what  terrible  alternative  was  before  her  ?  The 
slave-pens  of  New  Orleans !  The  heartless,  cruel  trader,  gloating 
over  the  terror  and  anguish  of  his  victim,  even  before  his  terrible 
fangs  could  fasten  upon  her  flesh  !  And  the  Mississippi  homo ! 
with  its  horrors  that  language  is  powerless  to  depict,  the  miserj' 


A     TALE     OF     80TJTHEE1T     LIFE.  95 

of  a  final  separation  from  the  only  being  she  had  ever  learned  to 
love.  What  heart  could  endure  all  this  when  in  a  moment  she 
could  find  a  sure  and  safe  release  in  the  bosom  of  the  deep  ? 
Where,  tell  me  where,  on  what  page  of  romance  or  of  song,  is 
cruelty  or  suffering  more  graphically  depicted  ?  and  yet  he  who  is 
the  cause  of  it,  goes  unwhipped  of  justice,  and  the  world  will 
palliate  his  conduct,  and  other  Graftons  and  other  Emmas  will 
hereafter  furnish  occasion  for  the  commission  of  crime,  and  the 
endurance  of  bitterest  wretchedness." 


96  woman'sfaith. 


CHAPTER    XX. 

No  incident  of  interest  marked  the  returning  journey  of  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Grafton,  and  Charles.  The  conversation  took  its  shape 
and  bearing  from  their  recent  delightful  visit. 

Both  of  the  Graftons  were  animated  with  hope  and  happiness, 
seeing  a  smile  occasionally  return  to  the  lips  ^f  Helen,  and  that 
her  thoughts  clustered  so  closely  around  the  delightful  circle  at 
Oak  Lawn,  each  member  of  which  she  remembered  with  so  much 
fondness  and  affection. 

"  I  hardly  know,"  said  she,  "  which  of  those  charming  girls,  I 
most  admire.  The  stately  beauty  of  Louise,  her  dignified  lofty 
carriage,  and  her  highly  polished  and  singularly  correct  conversa- 
tion impress  you  with  great  admiration,  and  the  goodness  of 
heart,  which  underlies  all  these  apparent  excellences  of  character 
necessarily  wins  your  highest  regard  and  esteem;  but  there  is  such 
a  sweet  ndiveti  in  Blanche,  the  outgushings  of  a  heart,  so  full  of 
affection,  tenderness,  and  sincerity,  such  an  originality  and 
elegance  in  her  conversation,  the  grace  in  her  manners,  which  art 
can  never  give,  and  a  face,  so  bright,  so  illuminated,  that  Hebe 
herself  might  envy ;  I  confess  that  my  prepossessions  are  rather 
in  favor  of  the  youngest  of  those  sisters.  Do  you  not  agree  with 
me  Charles  ?  The  rosy  blush,  which  I  sometimes  saw  tinging  her 
fair  cheek,  as  you  seemed  to  be  uttering  some  rather  warm,  yet 
half  concealed  sentiment,  told  to  the  eye  of  an  observing  woman, 
the  purpose  and  character  of  your  remark.  Now  tell  the  truth 
Charles,  were  you  not  indvdging  in  the  expression  of  some  tender 


A    TALE     OF    SOUTHERN     LIFE.  97 

gentiment,  while  Miss  Blanche  was  looking  over  that  'book  of 
beauty'  with  such  an  air  of  perfect  unconcern?" 

"  How  suspicious  you  ladies  are  of  the  designs  and  purposes  of 
all  gentlemen,  when  you  see  them  engaged  in  a  nice  tete-a-tcte 
with  a  fair  and  fascinating  young  lady.  I  admit  that  it  would  be 
no  very  ditficult  matter  to  fall  in  love  with  one,  so  well  deserving 
the  high  encomiums,  you  have  bestowed  upon  Miss  Blanche 
Lefort,  but  I  trust  I  have  seen  a  little  too  much  of  the  world  to 
believe  that  she  could  be  won  by  any  one  but  by  him,  in  whom 
were  combined  those  gifts  of  mind,  heart,  and  person,  which  I 
have  not  the  vanity  to  suppose  are  mine.  How  sweetly  she  sings. 
Those  high  and  exquisitely  plaintive  notes  are  carolled  with  all  the 
richness  and  clearness  of  the  song  of  the  lark,  so  artless  is  her 
manner,  so  unaffected  and  simple,  that  while  she  entrances  you 
with  her  sweetly  warbled  song,  you  can  hardly  tell,  which  was 
the  most  enchanting,  the  wonderful  execution,  or  the  witchery  of 
the  fascinating  songstress.  I  confess  that  without  having  dared  to 
fall  in  love,  she  ha^  impressed  me  with  more  admiration  than 
almost  any  being  I  ever  saw." 

"  Well,  Charles,  I  think  there  is  as  much  of  the  romantic  in 
your  conversation,  as  would  surfeit  a  young  girl  just  bidding  adieu 
to  her  teens,"  interrupted  Frank  Grafton.  "  The  young  ladies  are 
clever  enough,  but  their  advantages  have  been  very  great,  and. 
every  care  has  been  bestowed  upon  their  education.  How  Louise 
can  be  so  struck  with  that  pedantic  young  limb  of  the  law,  all  of 
whose  conversation  so  smacks  of  the  shop,  upon  whose  lips  the 
words  moraftl.y  and  principle  linger  with  such  a  lickerish  liking ; 
seems  strange ;  and  yet  I  doubt  not,  he  would,  for  ten  dollars 
defend  a  felon,  that  stole  your  cow,  and  try,  by  some  false  logic, 
to  convince  a  jury  of  his  innocence,  though  again  and  again  he 
had  confessed  the  crime  of  which  he  was  charged. 

"  Since  his  successful  defence  of  Paul  Eaton  of  the  offence  of 
interfering  or  tampering  with  slaves,  of  which  I  dare  say  he  is 

5 


98  woman'bfaith. 

guilty  enough,  though  not  precisely  as  accused,  he  plumes  himself 
most  jauntily,  and  I  presumi',  from  his  self-satisfied  air,  that  the 
highest  rewards  of  the  profession  would,  in  his  inflated  opinion,  be 
no  suflScient  recompense,  for  a  common  enough  defence  of  a  poor 
strolling  preacher.  I  wish  I  could  see  him  within  the  gripe  of 
Squire  Crafty,  he  would  so  well  take  off  this  mock  morality,  and 
teach  the  young  poppinjay,  a  modesty,  which  would  be  mosl 
useful  to  him." 

Helen  made  no  remark  in  reply  to  the  bitter  expressions,  which 
fell  so  scornfully  from  the  lips  of  her  husband.  She  knew  the 
occasion  of  the  ill  feeling,  for  her  quick  eye  had  marked  the  cold, 
yet  guarded  manner  of  William  Bums,  when  in  the  presence  of 
her  husband.  She  perceived,  as  if  by  intuition,  that  he  knew  all 
the  horrors  of  the  tragedy  so  recently  enacted  at  C6te  Blanche,  and 
that  he  regarded  her  husband  in  a  light,  to  her  sensitive  heart, 
most  dreadful.  She  was  as  pale  as  marble.  Her  large  blue  eyes 
were  tearless,  yet  they  glowed  with  that  unnatural  brilliancy,  indi- 
cating that  the  struggle  with  her  emotions  was  almost  too  intense 
for  the  mind  of  the  delicate  and  lovely  one,  whose  anguish,  though 
generally  concealed,  was  burning  as  with  a  living  flame  at  her 
very  heart  strings. 

Too  late  Mr.  Grafton  saw  the  effect,  he  had  unwittingly  wrought 
upon  the  keenly  excited  mind  of  Helen,  now  alive  to  any  remark, 
which,  however  distantly,  alluded  to  the  source  of  her  sorrows. 
Vainly  did  he  attempt  to  interest  her,  by  descriptions  of  the 
scenery  of  Oak  Lawn,  or  to  arrest  her  attention  by  relating  the 
playful  witticisms  of  Blanche,  but  it  was  manifest,  from  the  work- 
ings of  her  half  averted  face,  from  her  downcast  eye,  and  the 
deep,  absorbing  melancholy,  which  like  a  pall  overspread  her 
chiselled  features,  that  her  heart  took  no  part  in  the  conversation 
of  her  husband.  Grief  was  busy  at  that  heart,  reading  the  touch- 
ing story  of  wrong  and  suffering,  indelibly  inscribed  upon  it  and 
turning  to  ashes  all  the  flowers,  that  once  had  bloomed  and  bios- 


A     TALE     OF     SOTJTHEEN     LIFE.  $9 

sotned  there.  They  pursued  their  journey  with  scarcely  an 
attempt  to  vary  its  monotony,  by  further  remark.  Both  Frank 
and  Charles  Grafton  saw  the  futility  of  any  further  attempt  to 
chase  away  the  gloom  of  Helen,  and  most  fearful  were  their  fore- 
bodings of  the  efiect,  which,  the  presence  of  those  objects,  that 
must  recall  to  her  mind  all  the  past,  would  produce  upon  her 
shattered,  excited  sensibility. 

"  I  cannot  see  Cote  Blanche ;  already  I  hear  the  solemn  dirges 
of  the  sea.  No  voice  of  affectionate  welcome  will  greet  mo  at 
the  door  of  my  dwelling.  No  kind,  devoted  attentions,  anticipat- 
ing every  want,  and  wish,  will  relieve  the  fatigues  of  my  journey. 
All,  all,  is  desolation  now  at  that  home.  My  heart  sickens,  my 
spirit  dies  within  me,  as  I  contemplate  my  approach  to  that  grave 
of  buried  love,  and  that  mound  where  now  sleeps  the  free  form 
of  her,  whose  affection  never  wavered ;  whose  last  breathed  sigh 
was  for  the  happiness  of  those,  who  had  destroyed  her  own." 

Such  were  the  reflections,  half-whispered  expressions  of  Helen, 
as  she  gazed,  with  a  somewhat  vacant  look,  upon  the  objects  that 
met  her  view. 

How  vain  to  attempt  a  description  of  the  feelings  of  her  hus- 
band. Remorse  was  gnawing  at  his  heart.  His  thoroughly 
awakened  conscience,  with  its  poisoned  stings,  was  ever  bringing 
before  the  eyes  of  his  mind,  the  very  face  and  figure  of  poor 
Emma,  as  upon  bended  knees,  and  eyes  bedewed  with  tears,  she 
besought  him  to  save  her  from  the  polluting  touch  of  the  soulless 
Craven,  the  infamy  and  degradation  of  the  Mississippi  home,  so 
that  his  very  eyeballs  seemed  seared  with  the  sight,  and  he  would 
start  from  the  fantasies  of  his  mind,  as  if  they  had  been  living, 
acting  realities.  The  imagination  of  the  reader  will  better  supply 
a  description  of  the  last  few  hours  of  these  careworn  travellers, 
than  could  be  given  by  written  words.  For  what  language  can 
describe  that  expressive  silence,  which  anguished  hearts  alone  can 
feel  and   appreciate.     Tears   would   melt   the   ice,   that   almost 


100  woman's   faith, 

freezes  up  the  very  fountain  of  life,  but  they  will  not  flow.  No 
kindly  ray  beams  in  upon  the  chambers  of  that  mind,  shrouded  in 
the  darkness  of  deep  despair. 

"  Can  it,  oh  !  can  it  be  true,"  was  the  thought  unexpressed  of 
Charles,  as  he  looked  upon  the  visage,  pale  and  wan,  of  his  dearly 
loved  sister,  "  that  there  are  no  sorrows  which  heaven  cannot 
heal  ?" 


A     TALE     OF     80UTHEKN     LIFE.  101 


CHAPTER    XXI. 

Shadows,  deep  and  dark,  rest  upon  that  lovely  spot,  where, 
but  a  few  months  past,  all  was  light  and  joy !  The  same  bright 
sun,  it  is  true,  gilded  with  hues  of  gold,  the  stately  stocks  of  the 
sugar-cane,  as  they  waved  their  green  blades  in  the  breeze ;  the 
laugh  of  the  joyous  laborer,  as  he  returned  from  the  fields,  was 
as  ringing,  and  full  of  merriment  as  ever ;  and  tne  fisherman's 
dwelling  was  cheered  by  the  same  bright  and  happy  smile,  as  the 
mother,  with  the  babe  on  her  knee,  looked  out  upon  the  placid 
sea,  and  saw  her  child's  father  returning  with  the  fruit  of  that 
day's  toil ! 

But  no  sounds  of  happiness  were  heard  in  the  home  of  Grafton, 
for  peace  and  joy  had  been  driven  hence,  by  wrongs  for  which 
there  could  be  no  reparation. 

Death  might  enter  the  habitation,  and  cut  off,  in  the  very 
bloom  of  infancy,  the  hopes  of  happiest  years ;  the  wild,  ungov- 
ernable tornado  might,  in  a  moment,  raze  from  the  earth,  the 
fairest  and  firmest  creations  of  human  skill  and  art;  or  bury, 
beneath  the  waves  of  the  sea,  home,  with  all  its  comforts  and 
embellishments :  yet  faith  could  still  lift  its  eye  of  hope, 
brightened  with  a  smile,  conscious  that  His  arm,  who  doeth  all 
things  well,  had  wrought  this  desolation  and  ruin.  But  for  guilt, 
which  blots  out,  with  ruthless  hand,  that  life  which  it  can  never 
restore,  there  can  be  no  amends,  arid  sorrow,  yet,  unavailing 
sorrow,  is  the  sure  and  necessary  result. 

The  arrival  of  Helen  at  Cote  Blanche  was  attended  by  no  very 
marked  expression  of  feeling ;  but,  as  she  walked  over  the  house, 


103  woman's   faith. 

outside  of  which,  for  days,  she  had  not  passed,  there  was  manifest 
that  sense  of  utter  loneliness,  which  told  you,  at  once,  of  the  grief 
which  was  consuming  her. 

Iler  disposition  was  even  more  sweet  and  gentle ;  yet  the 
corroding  effect  of  some  dark  thoughts,  was  palpable  to  the 
most  careless  observer.  Day  by  day,  that  lovely  form  was  becom- 
ing more  and  more  attenuated,  and  to  the  eye  of  affectionate 
interest,  it  was  apparent,  unless  some  complete,  radical  change 
could  be  effected,  she  would  soon  join  those,  whom  she  was  so 
deeply  deploring. 

"  I  pray  you,  dear  Helen,"  said  Charles,  "  try  and  dispel  the 
gloom,  which  is  ever  your  constant  companion.  Yield  not  to  its 
influence,  and,  for  the  sake  of  those  who  love  you,  with  an  affec- 
tion that  knows  no  bounds,  drive  away  that  melancholy,  which, 
like  the  bird  of  night,  ever  mournfully  hovers  around  your 
existence." 

"  Oh,  Charles,  vainly  have  I  made  the  effort.  Again  and  again 
have  I  counterfeited  a  gaiety,  which  had  no  place  in  my  heart ; 
for  I  know  the  sadness  my  presence  imparts  to  all  within  the 
sphere  of  my  influence;  but  the  associations  of  this  place,  the 
terrible  events  of  which  it  has  been  the  scene,  are  full  of  woe. 
No  sound,  or  sight,  meets  my  eye,  or  ear,  but  tells  me  of  the 
awful  past." 

"  Helen,  I  know  full  well,  and  appreciate  the  dark  trials  which 
have  fallen  upon  you,"  said  Charles  ;  "  but  the  beautiful  religion, 
which  you  have  so  often  inculcated,  and  so  illustrated  in  your 
pure  and  guileless  life,  would,  it  seems  to  me,  teach  you  that 
some  good  was  to  be  evolved  from  them. 

"  You  need  not  remain  here  ;  my  brother  says  he  would  gladly, 
at  any  sacrifice,  dispose  of  his  possessions,  and  return  to  Virginia, 
if  he  could  thereby  bring  back  the  bloom  to  your  cheek,  and  the 
throb  of  happiness  to  your  heart,  which  were  yours,  when,  a  few 
years  since,  you  became  the  wife  of  his  bosom." 


A    TALE    OF    80UTHEEN    LIFE.  103 

"  No,  no,  Charles,  I  prefer  remaining  here.  Change  of  place 
I  am  sure,  would  work  no  change  of  feeling.  With  all  its  bitter 
recollections,  there  is  a  spell  that  binds  me  to  this  spot,  which  I 
would  not  break  if  I  could,  and  I  am  certain  I  could  not,  if  I 
would.  Urge  me  not,  dear  brother,  as  you  value  my  happiness, 
to  alter  my  resolution.  I  will  not  conceal  from*  you,  that  in  my 
future,  there  are  no  green  spots  ;  that  the  bright  blossoms,  which 
hope  planted  iu  my  young  heart,  are  all  withered  and  dead.  A 
few  months  passed,  and  I  shall  sleep  beneath  yonder  oak,  and  may 
I  not  hope,  that  my  memory  will  be  green  in  your  heart,  like  its 
leaves,  whose  bright,  fresh  hue  never  fades." 

Unwearied  and  unceasing  now  were  the  efforts  of  the  husband 
and  the  brother  to  interest  Helen,  and  divert  her  mind  from 
the  one  great  thought,  which  was  all-absorbing ;  but  diseases  of 
the  mind  and  heart  baffle  the  remedies  which  affection,  and  love 
so  assiduously  employ. 

Day  by  day  they  saw  that  once  commanding  form,  now  become 
so  slender,  that  it  seemed  but  the  shadow  of  its  former  self,  and 
the  mind,  like  the  casket  which  contained  it,  was  fast  becoming  a 
ruin.  At  times  she  would  refuse  all  sustenance,  and  for  hours 
would  sit  in  her  lone  chamber  noticing  no  one,  and  if  spoken  to, 
would  betray  an  impatience  and  temper  most  unusual  in  her,  and 
muttering  some  unwillingness  to  be  constantly  watched,  would 
shut  the  door  in  a  manner,  the  most  angry  and  decided.  At 
other  times,  she  was  as  gentle  as  a  lamb  and  yet  the  slightest 
attempt  to  change  her  resolution,  or  if  she  fancied  she  was 
observed,  she  would  weep  as  if  her  heart  would  break,  and  in 
j'iteous  strains  exclaim,  "I  am  not  mad."  As  far  as  possible  she 
was  indulged  in  every  caprice  even.  She  would  sometimes  be  out 
for  hours  and  returning  with  baskets  of  wild  flowers,  she  would 
array  most  tastefully  the  cradle  of  Ida,  varying  her  occupation 
7'ith  some  sweet  plaintive,  lullaby,  as  if  lier  babe  was  nestling 


104  woman's    faith. 

beneath  the  folds  of  the  couch  which  she  was  watching  with  such 
apparent  interest. 

Wildly  dash  the  waves  upon  the  beach  of  C6te  Blanche,  and 
beneath  the  wide-spread  branches  of  a  lofty  oak  sits  Helen,  her 
rav'jn  locks  floating  in  the  breeze,  and  her  face  beaming  with 
intelligence  and  interest,  as  if  listening  to  whispers  from  the  spirit- 
land,  borne  upon  the  crested  wave.  Her  delicate  taper  fingers 
stretched  winningly  toward  the  whitening  foam,  as  if  she  would 
wrest  from  the  grasp  of  the  all-conquering  sea,  some  dearly-loved 
object,  about  to  be  engulfed  in  its  dark  abyss. 

"  Emma,  Emma,  you  shall  not  be  sold  to  the  heartless  traderr 
of  New  Orleans ! 

"  Come !  come !  Bring  back  with  you,  my  sweet  little  cherub, 
the  cold  winds  will  chill,  the  dark  waters  drown  my  child,  and  I 
shall  then  go  mad  with  wretchedness !  Here  you  shall  rest  on 
this  mossy  couch !  I  have  garnished  it  with  the  harebell  and 
rose,  and  the  birds  will  warble  their  sweetest  notes  o'er  your 
slumbers.  Ah !  she  comes  not, — no !  no  !  no ! — they  laid  her  all 
cold  and  wet,  bound  with  sea-weed,  in  the  dark  ground  to  hide 
her  from  Craven  ! 

"There  must  I  go  and  guard  her  from  harm.  Oh,  how  sweetly 
can  I  sleep  on  that  bed  of  moss,  for  I  feel  so  tired,  and  faint — and 
the  lights  are  all  going  out — Ida — Emma — Heaven!" 

()n  a  clear,  bright,  and  balmy  evening,  just  as  the  last  rays  of 
the  setting  sun  was  tinging  with  gorgeous  golden  hues,  the  waters 
of  the  Gulf,  the  wearied  and  worn  spirit  of  poor  Helen  found  rest 
and  peace  in  the  repose  of  death.  So  calmly  and  peacefully  had 
she  died,  that  her  husband  and  brother,  as  they  came  out  to 
accompany  her  home  thought  her  but  reclining  upon  the  grave  of 
Ida.  Her  horror-struck  husband  shuddered  at  the  sight  of  this 
wreck  of  loveliness,  and  in  almost  a  state  of  stupefaction  saw  his 
brother  lift,  her,  like  an  infant,  and  bear  her  to  their  desolate 
and  gloomy  dwelling.    Grief  which  destroys  all  hope,  poisoned 


A     TALE     OF     SOUTHERN     LIFE.  105 

the  fountain  of  life,  and  her  pure  spirit  passed  from  the  sorrows  of 
earth  to  the  joys  of  heaven.  The  harp  with  its  thousand  strings, 
lately  so  rich  in  its  sweet  voices  of  melody,  had  lost  its  power. 
No  hand  could  again  awaken,  and  bring  back  those  tones,  now 
hushed  and  still  for  ever. 

The  unerring  arrow  had  reached  the  heart,  no  skill,  no  tender- 
ness, no  love  could  provide  a  remedy.  Side  by  side  with  her 
darling  Ida,  and  the  faithful  Emma,  Helen  reposes. 

The  sweet  music  of  the  sea,  sweetly  chiming  with  the  melodies 
of  the  grove,  shall  utter  the  requiem  for  this  broken  heart  1 


5» 


106  woman's  faith. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

A  FEW  days  subsequent  to  this  sad  event,  which  we  have 
related  in  the  foregoing  chapter,  Mr.  Lefort  received  from  Charles 
Grafton,  the  following  letter. 

C5tb  Blanchb,  AprU  IStA. 
"Mr  Dear  Sib, 

"  The  blow  which  we  have  so  long  dreaded,  has  at  lant  fallen, 
with  stunning  force  upon  our  home.  Our  dear  Helen  is  no  more.  For 
the  last  few  days  she  has  seemed  more  an  inhabitant  of  some  bright 
sphere,  than  of  earth,  for  though  her  mind  for  sometime  past  seemed  to 
have  lost  its  balance,  yet  she  ever  appeared  as  if  holding  near  and  delight- 
ful communion  with  that  happy  throng,  who,  released  from  the  trials  and 
sorrows  of  earth,  have  entered  upon  the  joys  and  blisa  of  heaven. 

Most  touchingly  would  she  repeat,  in  scripture  language,  the  magnifi- 
cent description  of  heaven,  its  pearly  gates,  its  gplden  streets,  its  unfading 
light,  and  then  in  a  voice  full  of  the  most  affecting  melody  would  she 
slog,  the  hymn, 

"  Sweet  fields  beyond  the  swelling  flood, 
Stand  dressed  in  living  green ;" 

her  beautiful  countenance  almost  seraphic  in  its  expression,  her  slight 
and  wasted  figure,  so  almost  unearthly,  that  it  scarcely  required  the  aid  ot 
imagination  to  regard  her,  as  already  a  denizen  of  Paradise.  Without 
any  apparent  disease,  an  angel  hand  seemed  gradually  preparing  her,  for 
her  departure,  and  frequently  so  stijl  and  hushed  were  her  breathings  in 
slumber,  that  we  feared  she  had  entered  upon  that  sleep,  that  knows  no 
waking. 

"  All  medical  aid  was  useless ;  affectionately,  but  with  great  firmness, 
Bhe  resisted  our  entreaties  to  leave  Cote  Blanche,  and  fur  the  last  few  days 
of  her  life,  we  Qould  not  persuade  her  to  take  any  sustenance. 


A     TALE     OF     SOUTHERN     LIFE.  107 

"  Ei»:s5ng  her  large  blue  eyes,  beaming  with  expression,  she  would  eay, 
'  I  hav^s  meat  to  eat,  that  ye  know  not  of ;  my  Heavenly  Father  feedeth 
me.'  And  so  she  died!  AYe  saw  no  chariot  of  fire,  and  horsemen  thereof; 
to  our  vision  it  was  not  permitted  to  see  the  heavens  opened,  but  we  know 
that  «he  is  now  at  peace,  emparadised.  At  the  close  of  day,  the  hour 
she  loved  so  well,  a  gentle  breeze  from  the  sea  softly  stirring  the  leaves 
of  o«r  noble  oaks,  the  departing  sun  casting  a  melancholy  ray  upon  the 
verdant,  lovely  landscape,  we  laid  her  down  upon  that  spot,  which  her 
own  hande  had  planted  with  the  rose  and  cypress,  and  which  her  owa 
tearp  had  watered.  And  now,  I  need  hardly  say  to  you.  Cote  Blanche, 
once  so  nidiant  and  smiling,  bears  an  aspect  of  complete  desolation. 

"Cour'»geous  as  I  fancied  myself  to  be,  I  can  no  longer  remain  amidst 
scenes  so  fraught  with  saddest  memories,  and  shall  to-morrow  leave  for 
Virginia. 

"  I  had  intended  to  have  visited  Oak  Lawn  before  my  departure,  and  to 
ask  in  person,  your  acceptance  of  our  warmest  thanks,  for  the  kind  atten- 
tions and  generous  sympathies,  we  have  received  at  the  hands  of  yourself 
and  your  family.  But  I  feel  that  I  have  no  right  to  burden  others  with 
griefs,  which  have  been  cast  upon  me.  "With  my  kindest  regards  to  Mrs. 
Lefort  and  your  daughters,  permit  me  to  subscribe  myself. 

"  Very  truly  and  sincerely  yours, 

"Charles  Grafton." 

"  In  all  my  recollections,  I  can  think  of  no  more  tragic  story^ 
than  the  brief  history  of  Helen  Marshall,"  said  Mr.  Lefort,  "  and 
yet  how  seemingly  unnecessary  and  strange  the  cause.  Some 
foolish  caprice,  or  whim  of  her  husband's,  leading  to  most  terrible 
results.  I  cannot  believe,  that  any  man  could  ever  contemplate 
an  act  of  such  barbarity." 

"  I  dislike  to  indulge  in  harsh  expressions,"  said  Louise,  "  but  I 
think  Frank  Grafton  capable  of  anything.  In  a  conversation  with 
Mr.  Burns,  I  heard  him  utter  such  horrible  sentiments,  laugh  at 
all  idea  of  accountability,  and  sneer  at  virtue  with  such  malignity, 
I  made  up  my  mind  that  he  would  hesitate  at  nothing,  if  it  would 
minister  to  his  gratification.  I  grant  him  talent,  great  information, 
and  "wonderful  powers  of  conversation,  but  he  seema  to  me  a 


108  woman's    FAITn.     . 

perfect  Mephistopliiles,  and  now  that  all  restraint  is  removed  I 
believe  he  will  give  full  way  to  his  demoniac  passions." 

"  I  hope  not,"  said  Mr.  Lefort,  "  but  that  the  influences  of  such 
awful  trials  will  have  their  designed  effect  upon  his  heart  and 
conscience.     What  a  difference,  between  him  and  his  brother." 

"  And  yet,''  said  Louise,  "  how  little  do  we  know  of  Charles 
Grafton.  IJe  may  be  all  that  he  seems,  or  that  we  could  desire, 
but  a  brother  of  such  a  man,  the  same  mother — I  confess  the 
name  is  to  me,  a  name  of  omen." 

"  You  do  not,"  said  Lefort,  "  remember  how  much  education 
and  association  may  have  had  to  do,  in  the  formation  of  the 
character  of  Frank  Grafton  ?  I  am  told  that  neither  of  them  were 
blessed  with  a  father's  counsels,  or  a  mother's  priceless  care,  .and 
watchful  love,  but  that  left  while  quite  young,  in  the  charge  of 
distant  relatives,  the  education  of  their  minds  or  hearts  has  been 
very  much  the  result  of  good  or  ill  fortune. 

Duiing  all  this  conversation,  the  heart  of  poor  Blanche  was 
tossed  by  excitement  almost  inexpressible.  She  had  felt  most 
deeply  the  death  of  Helen,  for  she  had  been  greatly  attached  to 
her,  and  Charles  Grafton  had  inspired-  her  with  a  sentiment,  she 
hardly  dared  to  trust  her  heart  to  analyze.  Often  in  their  walks, 
when  he  would  evidently  intend  an  expression  of  his  attachment, 
she  would,  with  a  spice  of  coquetry,  turn  him  from  his  purpose,  or 
by  a  mode  of  conversation,  which  would  induce  an  ingenuous 
mind  to  suppose  that  she  wished  to  save  him  the  mortification  of 
a  refusal;  with  a  look  of  disappointment,  he  woiild  speak  of  a  saA. 
future  for  himself,  uncared  for,  and  unloved.  She  knew  the  power 
she  possessed  over  him,  and  though  she  greatly  admired  him  and 
was  deeply  interested  in  him,  was  pleased  to  make  full  trial  of  his 
love.  But  now  that  he  was  to  leave  Louisiana,  as  she  feared  for- 
ever, that  she  was  not  again  to  enjoy  the  delight  of  his  society,  to 
hear  from  his  lips  those  expressions  of  interest  and  regard  so  com- 
plimentary, and  so  gratifying,  a  complete  revulsion  of  feeling  took 


A    TALE    OF    SOUTHERN    LIFE.  109 

place,  and  she  concealed  in  the  deepest  recesses  of  her  heart,  a 
sadness,  and  a  sorrow,  never  before  experienced.  She  could 
scarcely  restrain  the  defence,  that  would  spring  to  her  lips,  of  him, 
whom  she  secretly  loved,  when  correctly,  but  dangerously,  attacked 
by  Louise. 

"He  must,"  rejoined  Blanche,  "be  the  veriest  hypocrite,  and 
for  no  purpose,  and  at  a  time  too,  when  his  own  heart  is  rent  by 
sorrow  ;  or  the  sentiments  expressed  in  the  letter,  father  has  just 
read,  disclose  a  high  sentiment,  and  a  tender  affection  possessed 
but  by  the  very  fewest  of  all  my  acquaintances.  I  scarcely  think 
it  generous  or  just,  in  his  absence,  to  charge  him,  at  least  by 
insinuation,  of  a  connection  or  participation  in  a  crime,  which  you 
have  justly  stigmatized  as  the  darkest  in  all  the  black  catalogue 
of  sin." 

"  Why,  Blanche,"  said  Louise,  "  I  never  dreamed  of  arousing 
your  sensibilities  in  the  casual  remark  I  made,  or  that  you  felt  for 
Mr.  Grafton,  irore  or  other  interest,  than  that  of  an  acquaintance 
of  a  few  weeks'  standing." 

"And  such  an  acquaintanceship  might  well  enough  have  elicited 
a  single  word,  even  of  defence,"  said  Blanche.  "  But  I  have  no 
justification  to  make^  and  no  sensibilities  to  check  or  conceal,  so 
you  may  well  spare  yourself  the  trouble  of  attempting  to  produce 
an  effect,  it  the  object  is  a  discovery." 

"  Blanche,  you  know  I  have  no  such  purpose,"  said  Louise. 

"  Well  then  all  is  forgotten,"  said  Blanche ;  "  but  once  for  all, 
even  at  the  risk  of  having  my  motives  or  feelings  misinterpreted, 
I  must  say  of  Charles  Grafton,  that  the  high  powers  of  his  mind, 
are  not  more  attractive,  or  marked,  than  the  goodness  of  his 
heart." 

"  So  far  as  I  have  been  able  to  form  an  opinion,"  replied  Louise, 
*^I  agree  with  you,  and  admit  that  I  may  have  harshly  judged 
one,  whom  I  may  never  see  again,  and  permitted  the  influence  of 
a  name  to  do  him  unintentional  injustice." 


110  woman's  faith 


CHAPTER     XXIII. 

The  dark  mysterious  mind  of  Frank  Grafton  now  turned,  like 
the  wounded  serpent,  to  sting  itself.  The  sharp,  iron  tooth  of 
remorse  had  entered  his  soul,  and  its  gnawings  no  human  device 
could  stay  or  hinder.  Night  was  rendered  hideous  by  distempered 
dreams,  which  sleep,  no  longer  sweet  to  him,  brought  to  his 
couch,  and  he  would  awake,  his  hair  almost  stiffened  with  fear, 
and  his  strong  frame  trembling  with  agony,  as  if  an  army  of 
demons  were  about  to  bear  him  to  the  regions  of  the  lost.  Most 
welcome  was  the  returning  light  of  morning,  as  it  would  dispel 
the  phantoms,  that  disturbed  his  repose. 

Greatly  attached  as  he  was  to  his  brother,  the  only  human 
being  for  whom  he  entertained  the  least  feeling  of  regard,  he 
frequently  shunned  his  presence,  fearful  that  he  might  witness  the 
workings  of  his  tortured  heart.  Charles  urged  upon  him  a  sale 
of  their  plantation,  and  to  return  with  the  slaves  to  Virginia. 
"This  place,"  said  he,  "were  it  more  lovely  than  fancy  could  paint, 
and  a  perfect  mine  of  wealth  to  its  possessor,  for  me  would  have 
no  attractions.  We  have  enough  for  our  wants,  let  us  leave  this 
spot  so  crowded  with  bitter  memories,  and  upon  the  banks  of  the 
Potomac,  or  in  some  sweet  valley,  sheltered  by  the  Blue  Ridge, 
we  may  yet  find  that  happiness  denied  to  us  in  Louisiana." 

"That  would  never  do,  Charles.  To  give  up  a  property  like 
ours,  would  be  the  height  of  folly.  This  plantation  is  almost 
priceless  in  value.  The  influence  of  the  warm  sea  breezes,  as  they 
float  over  the  Gulf  Stream,  protect  our  cane  from  frost,  and  the 


A    TALE    OF    80UTHEKN    LIFE..  Ill 

great  fertility  of  the  soil  always  assures  us  of  a  most  abundant 
crop.  I  came  here  with  the  intention  of  amassing  a  large  fortune, 
and  those  just  expectations  must  not  be  disappointed." 

"I  know,"  said  Charles,  "that  it  is  vain  to  argue  with  you, 
when  your  mind  is  made  up,  but  for  myself,  I  have  determined 
upon  an  immediate  departure,  and  yet  it  is  with  great  pain  that 
I  leave  you,  now  that  aflQiction  has  laid  its  hand  so  heavily  upon 
you." 

"Do  not  stay,  Charles;  I  shall  find  relief  from  harrowing  reflec- 
tions, in  unwearied  occupation,  and  I  am  more  fitted  by  nature 
than  you  are  for  breasting  the  stormy  trials  of  life." 

It  was  decided  that  Charles  should  at  once  set  off"  for  New 
Orleans,  on  his  way  to  the  North,  and  supplied  with  letters  of 
credit,  upon  their  commission  merchant  in  that  city,  Frank 
hastened  his  preparation  for  the  journey.  It  is  a  peculiarity  of 
strong  minds,  especially  when  deeply  imbued  with  pride,  to  seek 
in  seclusion,  alleviation  from  distress. 

Grief  is  regarded  as  a  weakness,  and  a  sigh,  or  a  tear,  as  proof  of 
effeminacy.  As  the  stricken  deer  parts  from  the  herd,  and  seeks 
some  lone  desolate  spot  to  die,  so  a  haughty  spirit  would  find  a 
place,  so  secluded,  that  no  eye  could  witness,  and  no  ear  listen  to 
the  wailings,  which  an  agonized  heart  is  forced  to  utter.  In  the 
presence  of  others,  a  continual  strife  was  going  on  in  the  bosom 
of  Frank,  to  conceal  the  emotions  which  were  agitating  it.  He 
would  feign  a  hilarity  that  illy  became  him,  while  the  most  bitter, 
malignant  sneers  at  a  tale  of  woe,  would  reveal  the  leading 
trait  of  his  character.  He  would  be  alone  with  his  slaves.  That 
dark  spirit,  shut  up,  with  its  own  communings,  permitted  no 
approach. 

The  plantation  and  slaves  were  one  vast  machine,  and  its  master 
mind  was  Frank  Grafton.  It  was  rather  a  pleasure,  than  other- 
wise, that  the  day  had  arrived,  when  Charles  should  leave  C6te 
Blanche. 


112  woman's  faith. 

*'  Before  we  part,  Charles,  it  is  necessary,  that,  in  a  few  words, 
I  should  acquaint  you  with  the  condition  of  our  possessions,  and 
what  my  determinations  are  as  to  their  destination,  in  case  of  acci- 
dent to  myselt  All  the  incumbrances  upon  the  property  are 
paid  off.  With  my  commission  merchant  in  the  city,  is  a  trunk, 
containing  all  the  title  deeds  and  evidences  of  the  same,  and  my 
will,  making  such  a  disposition  of  my  interest,  as  I  desire  ;  my 
books  and  papers  will  show  the  amount  of  money  in  the  hands 
of  my  merchant.  I  have  thought  it  more  convenient  to  keep  all 
these  accounts  in  my  own  name,  and  equally  advantageous  to 
yourself.  1  will  continue  to  manage  the  estate,  as  if  it  were  my 
own,  upon  joint  account.  And  when  you  may  wish  any  division, ' 
you  have  only  to  signify  it,  and  it  shall  be  done  to  your  satisfac- 
tion. The  title  to  the  plantation  and  to  the  slaves,  not  being  in 
my  own  name,  I  can  make  no  disposition  of  the  same,  but  upon 
your  signature.  And  now,  Charles,  I  bid  you  farewell,  and  wish 
you  more  happiness  than  has  ever  fallen  to  my  lot." 

Charles  was  too  deeply  aflfected  for  utterance.  The  calm,, 
calculating  manner  in  which  Frank  had  spoken  of  the  property, 
and  of  its  disposition,  seemed  really  ominous,  and  scenes  of  the 
past  came  rushing  up  so  thickly  before  his  vision,  that  he  felt  as 
if  summoned  again  to  the  house  of  mourning.  Oppressed  with  a 
weight,  which  hung  heavy  at  his  heart,  he  bade  adieu  to  C6te 
Blanche. 


A    TALE     OF     80UTHEKN    LIFE.  113 


CHAPTER    XXIV. 

Months  had  now  passed,  but  in  their  passage  had  brought 
neither  peace  nor  change,  for  the  conscience-stricken  Grafton. 
His  mind,  ever  brooding  over  the  past,  preyed  upon  his  robust 
constitution,  and  so  wrought  upon  his  nervous  system,  that  the 
stroig  man,  at  times,  exhibited  the  weaknesses  of  childhood. 
Dwelling  alone,  and  indulging  the  suspicions,  which  would  crowd 
in  upon  him,  that  he  was  regarded  as  cruel  and  unprincipled,  ho 
became  a  complete  misanthrope. 

At  times,  he  would  seek  in  the  Bible,  for  that  alleviation  which 
it  always  affords  to  the  humble  and  the  penitent ;  but  as  his 
proud  spirit  could  discover,  in  its  beautiful  philosophy,  no  refuge, 
but  in  self-abasement ;  no  pardon  and  peace,  but  in  confession  and 
contrition  ;  he  would  throw  it  aside,  as  fitted  only  for  allaying 
the  fears  of  silly  women  and  children.  And  yet  his  powerful 
■  mind,  which  had  examined  the  evidences,  and  witnessed  the 
fruits  of  the  religion  it  taught,  would  not  permit  him  to  rest 
in  the  hope,  that  it  was  all  a  fable.  "  Well,  if  it  is  true,"  he 
would  say  to  himself,  "  why  should  I  disquiet  myself  about  that, 
over  which  I  have  no  control  ?  Shall  the  clay  say  unto  the 
potter,  why  has  thou  formed  me  thus  ?"  And  so  he  would  attempt 
to  cheat  himself  into  the  belief  that  he  was  not  a  free  agent. 
He  hoped  that  a  trip  to  New  Orleans,  which  had  become  necessary, 
in  some  business  transactions,  might  give  a  new  current  to  his 
thoughts,  and  enable  him  to  forget  the  dark  deeds,  which  so 
haunted  his  waking  and  sleeping  hours.     In  that  gay,  pleasure- 


114  woman's    FAITH. 

loving  city,  he  mingled  in  all  the  scenes  of  amusement  and 
dissipation. 

He  sought,  in  the  excitement  of  cards,  at  the  faro  table,  and  at  the 
race-course,  that  happiness  which  others  seemed  to  find  there,  but 
in  vain.  Staking  large  sums  upon  the  throw  of  a  single  card,  or 
upon  the  success  of  some  favorite  race-horse,  he  was  always 
successful ;  but  the  triumph  brought  rather  disgust  than  pleasure, 
unless,  as  he  sometimes  did,  he  could  see  that  the  loss  was  torture 
to  his  adversary.  He  would  then  taunt  him  with  his  want  of 
skill  and  judgment,  and  throwing  the  money  upon  the  table,  would 
leave  those  haunts  of  iniquity  and  ruin,  as  if  disgusted  with  him- 
self. Through  such  associations,  accepting  an  invitation  to  a  largo 
party,  given  him  by  Mrs.  McLane,  he  was,  by  his  graceful  and 
elegant  manners,  the  originality  and  power  of  his  conversation, 
courted  and  caressed,  and  the  delicate  compliments,  which  he  so 
well  knew  how  to  employ,  awakened  the  admiration  of  many  a 
fair  demoiselle^  in  that  brilliant  assembly.  Though  he  never  min- 
gled in  the  mazy  dance,  he  would  whisper  such  agreeable  flattery 
in  the  ear  of  the  mother  of  some  acknowledged  belle,  or  attach 
to  himself,  by  his  winning  address,  in  spite  of  pre-engagement, 
some  fascinating  young  lady,  that  he  was  the  cause  of  unhappi- 
ness  and  heart-burning  to  many  a  guest  in  that  festive  scene. 
The  band  of  music  striking  up  an  inspiriting  march,  was  the 
signal  for  supper. 

Offering  his  arm  to  the  hostess,  he  attended  her  to  a  large  and 
splendid  apartment,  brilliantly  illuminated,  and  decorated  in  the 
most  tasteful  manner.  The  scene  itself  was  enchanting ;  the 
rooms  were  hung  with  beautiful  tapestry,  and  the  table,  groaning 
beneath  the  rare,  delicate  viands  and  delicious  wines,  with  which 
it  was  loaded,  was  garnished  with  bouquets  of  the  rarest  aild 
loveliest  flowers,  blooming  in  that  genial  clime. 

The  gentle  fatigue  of  the  dance,  heightened  the  zest  for  ices, 
and  the  sparkling  champagne,  while  the  nicely-prepared  wood- 


A    TALE    OF     SPUTHEKN    LIFE.  115 

cock  aud  plover  tempted  the  appetite  of  the  most  fastidious 
epicure. 

Supper  being  over,  as  they  returned  to  the  parlors,  some  joined 
in  the  pleasures  of  the  dance,  while  those  who  were  disinclined  to 
this  amusement,  formed  card  parties  in  separate  apartments. 
Grafton  accepted  an  invitation  to  make  up  a  party  at  whist,  a 
game  in  which  he  specially  prided  himself.  His  adversaries  were 
adepts  at  cards  and  proposed  to  keep  up  the  interest,  by  a  wager 
of  fifty  dollars,  upon  each  rubber.  It  was  accepted,  and  by  inat- 
tention, or  want  of  skill  on  the  part  of  Lapere,  partner  of  Grafton, 
the  game  was  lost.  A  new  rubber  was  proposed,  Grafton  warning 
Lapere  to  be  wary,  as  they  had  to  contend  against  the  utmost  skill 
and  prudence.  Carelessness  was  again  manifested  by  Lapere ;  a 
lead  throwing  the  game  into  the  hands  of  their  adversary,  so  net- 
tled Grafton,  that  with  a  sneer,  he  remarked  "  that  the  advantage 
of  playing  with  a  dummy,  was,  that  he  could  direct  the  play. 
But  now  it  is  so  evidently  a  one-sided  aflair,  that  there  can  be  no 
amusement  for  any  one." 

Stung  by  the  bitterness  of  the  remark,  Lapere  tartly  replied, 
"  that  if  Mr.  Grafton  was  suffering  from  his  losses,  he  would  relieve 
him,  from  such  distress,  by  paying  them  himself."  Excited  by 
wine,  and  his  morbid  temper  being  aroused,  Grafton  replied  by 
saying,  "  If  I  had  not  known  that  our  adversaries  were  gentlemen, 
I  should  have  supposed  you  were  acting  the  part  of  a  stool-pigeon, 
and  were  playing  into  their  hands.  As  it  is,  sir,  I  have  only  to 
remark,  that  I  despise  your  insinuations,  and  can  only  attribute 
your  conduct  to  low-breeding  and  ignorance."  He  then  tossed 
his  wine  in  his  face,  saying  he  trusted  it  would  cool  his  imperti- 
nence. Lapere  rose  from  the  table,  his  creole  blood  boiling  with 
r%e,  and  remarked,  "  that  a  friend  of  his,  would  call  upon  Mr. 
Grafton  on  the  following  morning." 

Grafton  seemed  to  have  completely  regained  his  self-possession, 
and  laughingly  remarked,  that  he  should  soon  have  the  pleasure 


116  woman's   faith. 

of  being  run  through  or  shot  in  the  most  approved  method,  but 
that  if  Mr.  Lapere,  was  as  little  skilled,  or  as  careless  in  the  use 
of  his  weapons,  as  he  was  with  his  cards,  he  had  only  to  fear  for 
himself,  from  some  chance-shot,  or  random-pass  of  the  small  sword. 
In  fulfillment  of  his  promise,  early  on  the  following  day,  Mr. 
Girod,  as  the  fiiend  of  Mr.  Lapere,  called  upon  Grafton,  with  a 
hostile  message.  With  perfect  coolness,  he  politely  requested 
Mr.  Girod  to  be  seated,  and  having  read  the  note,  he  referred  him 
to  his  friend  Col.  Clarke,  who,  he  trusted,  would  with  him  settle 
all  preliminaries  satisfactorily. 

He  then,  in  his  blandest  manner,  asked  him  to  take  wine  with 
him,  and  hoped  that  their  acquaintance,  now  somewhat  untowardly 
commenced,  might  not  terminate,  with  this  affair.  Grafton  had 
instructed  Col.  Cl'irke  to  take  no  advantage  which  he  might  have 
a  right  to  as  the  challenged  party,  but  to  give  to  Mr.  Lapere  the 
choice  of  weapons,  the  time  and  place  of  meeting.  "With  him  it 
was  a  matter  of  indiflference,  and  if  not,  as  he  had,  perhaps,  first 
given  the  insult,  it  was  but  right,  that  a  choice  in  all  these  parti- 
culars, should  be  given  to  his  adversary.  The  weapons  selected 
were  rifles,  at  sixty  paces,  and  the  meeting  to  take  place  on  the 
following  morning,  immediately  after  sunrise.  The  evening  before 
the  duel,  Col.  Clarke  called  upon  Grafton  and  passed  some  hours 
with  him.  He  never  appeared  more  gay  and  cheerful,  and  in  vain 
did  the  colonel  attempt  to  direct  his  mind  to  the  interesting 
event  of  the  moiTow.  He  merely  said,  all  his  affairs  were  arranged 
in  the  event  of  the  duel  proving  fatal  to  himself,  and  that  he 
required  no  preparation,  as  he  would  listen  to  the  instructions, 
always  given  to  the  principals  on  the  ground  by  one  of  the  seconds. 
He  sjjoke  of  the  delightful  society  of  New  Orleans,  its  hospitality, 
of  the  charming  party  of  Mrs.  McLane,  and  that  he  should  ever 
remember  with  pleasure  the  acquaintances  he  had  made  upon  that 
occasion.  His  far-sighted  views,  in  regard  to  the  immense 
resources  of  the  capital  of  Louisiana,  surprised  Col.  Clarke,  ho 


A     TALE     OF     80UTHEEN     LIFE.  117 

assuring  him,  that  in  a  quarter  of  a  century,  it  would  be  one  of 
the  most  important  commercial  cities  in  the  Union. 

"  No  man,"  said  he,  "  can  cast  his  eye  over  the  immense 
territory,  as  fertile  as  any  land  beneath  the  sun,  all  of  which, 
through  the  Mississippi,  must  become  tributary  to  New  Orleans, 
without  perceiving  that  it  will  be  almost  unlimited  in  the  extent 
of  its  commerce." 

And  thus  the  evening  passed  pleasantly  away,  as  if  the  mor 
row's  sun  was  to  awaken  him  to  scenes  of  peace  and  duty.  At 
daylight.  Col.  Clarke  found  Grafton  dressed,  and  with  coffee  upon 
the  table,  that  their  engagement  might  not  be  interrupted. 

A  carriage  was  at  the  door,  waiting  to  bear  them  to  the  fatal 
field  of  honor.  Arriving  at  the  ground,  and  alighting,  they  waited 
a  few  moments,  when  Mr.  Lapere  and  Girod  made  their  appear- 
ance. Grafton  saluted  Lapere  in  a  most  dignified  and  respectful 
manner,  when  the  seconds  at  once  proceeded  with  the  prelimi- 
naries of  the  duel.  All  these  being  over,  the  principals  took  their 
places,  and  at  the  word  ''  one,"  given  by  Girod,  Lapere  shot  and  his 
ball  tore  up  the  grass,  at  the  feet  of  Grafton,  without  doing  him 
any  injury. 

Grafton  had  reserved  his  fire,  and  seeing  a  large  bird,  hovering 
over  the  head  of  Lapere,  he  raised  his  rifle,  and  as  Girod  pro- 
nounced the  vvord,  "  fire,"  he  shot,  and  the  object,  at  which  he 
aimed,  fell  qu'vering  at  the  feet  of  his  adversary. 

Col.  Clarke  now  insisted  that  the  duel  should  proceed  no  fur- 
ther, that  Mr.  Grafton  had  done  all  required  by  the*ode  of  honor, 
and  that  further  prosecution  of  the  duel,  would  look  like  a  simple 
desire  for  vengeance.  After  consulting  with  Lapere,  Girod  replied 
that  his  principal  insisted  upon  another  shot — that  he  should 
attribute  to  a  want  of  courage  any  attempts  at  an  amicable 
arrangement.  These  words  were  overheard  by  Grafton,  and 
muttering  "  poor  fool,  why  will  he  rush  upon  his  fate,"  with  a 
look  of  defiance  in  his  burning  eye,  again  took  his  place  in  front 


118  woman's   faith.- 

of  Lapere.  Ilolding  Lis  rifle  with  a  firm  grasp,  at  the  words  "  are 
you  ready,"  he  raised  his  weapon,  and  scarcely  had  the  word 
"one"  passed  the  lips  of  Girod,  the  rifle's  shai-p  report  was  heard, 
and  Lapere  fell  dead  upon  the  field.  With  one  mingled  look  ot 
pity  and  contempt  upon  his  ^^ctim,  he  ordered  his  carriage,  and 
di'ove  back  to  his  lodgings  in  the  city. 

Sadly  and  slowly  the  friends  of  the  brave  and  gallant  Lapere 
bore  his  remains  to  the  house  of  his  now  nearly  distracted  mother, 
for  he  was  her  only  son,  and  she* was  a  widow. 

The  day  succeeding  the  duel,  the  following  announcement 
appeared  in  one  of  the  papers  of  the  city:  "An  afiair  of  honor, 
came  off  at  'The  Oaks,'  yesterday  morning  at  sunrise,  between 
one  of  our  most  popular  and  gallant  young  Creoles,  and  a  planter. 
Weapons,  rifles,  at  sixty  paces.     Two  shots  were  exchanged,  at  the 

second  fire,  young fell,  and  immediately  expired.    The  affair 

has  caused  a  deep  sensation,  as  one  of  the  parties  belonged  to  a 
highly  respectable  family,  and  with  him,  perishes  the  last  scion  of 
a  noble  stock. 

"We  understand  that  everything  was  conducted  with  great  fair- 
ness and  propriety  upon  the  ground.  At  the  first  fire,  some 
amicable  arrangement  was  attempted,  but  ihe  insult  was  so 
wanton  and  aggravated,  that  reconciliation  was  impossible.  Wo 
forbear  further  comments  upon  the  melancholy  proceedings.  It 
will  be  remarked  that  one  of  the  parties  bears  the  same  name  with 
that  of  the  hero  of  a  most  tragic  tale  of  suffering  and  death,  recently 
published  by  us,  from  the  pen  of  our  Attakapas  correspondent." 

The  fang  of  a  serpent  could  not  have  inflicted  a  wound  half  as 
fatal  to  the  peace  of  Grafton  as  this  little  squib  in  a  daily  news 
paper.  His  haughty,  sensitive  spirit  quivered,  as  he  held  the 
paper  in  his  hand.  •  His  face  was  almost  white  with  rage,  and  he 
walked  his  room,  uttering  the  most  bitter  maledictions  upon  the 
head  of  the  editor.  And  yet  how  absurd,  to  get  up  a  quarrel  with 
an  irresponsible  conductor  of  a  newspaper,  said  Grafton  to  himselt 


A    TALE    OF    SOUTHEKN    LIFE.  119 

He  would  tauntingly  reply,  that  he  had  given  a  fair  version  of  the 
duel,  and  but  adverted  to  a  circumstance  \<'hich  at  the  time 
excited  a  deep  and  general  interest.  "'Our  Attakapas  correspon- 
dent,' and  who  is  he  ?  I  have  my  suspicions,  and  if  they  prove 
true,  no  power  shall  rescue  him  from  my  revenge.  Mr.  Attorney 
Burns,  you  had  better  not  cross  my  path.  The  taste  of  blood  has 
aroused  my  lion  heart,  and  its  appetite  shall  be  appeased." 

Fruitless  were  the  attempts  made  by  Grafton,  to  learn  the 
authorship  of  the  letter,  which  had  so  excited  his  ire.  He  now 
fancied  that  his  history  was  upon  the  tongue  of  every  man  he  met, 
and  that  he  was  shunned,  as  the  author  of  crimes,  of  the  blackest 
dye.  He  hastened  his  preparations  for  leaving  the  city,  preferring 
even  the  gloom  and  desolation  of  Cote  Blanche  to  a  longer 
residence,  under  such  circumstances,  in  town. 


120  woman's  faith. 


'   CHAPTER    XXV. 

The  interest  of  a  narrative,  depends  mainly  upon  the  qualities 
of  those,  who  chiefly  figure  in  it.  We  are  deeply  impressed  by 
the  good  or  ill  success  of  the  various  characters  in  the  drama,  as 
we  see,  clearly  and  vividly,  their  person  and  their  minds  before 
us,  and  can  form  some  opinion  as  to  their  rule  of  conduct.  We, 
therefore,  bespeak  the  indulgence  of  our  readers,  while  we  present 
before  them,  the  portraiture  of  one  who  may  already  have  awak- 
ened their  regard. 

It  was  matter  of  no  small  surprise  to  those,  who  had,  for  years, 
been  plodding  on,  with  weary  steps,  in  their  professional  career  ; 
who,  by  slow  and  toilsome  progress,  had  reached  to  eminence  in 
the  practice  of  the  law,  that  Mr.  William  Burns  in  his  first  forensic 
effort,  should  take  a  place,  if  not  primus  inter  pares,  at  least  not  a 
whit  behind  the  foremost.  But  they  were  little  aware  of  those  rare 
powers  of  intellect,  with  which  he  had  been  endowed,  and  of  that 
cultivation,  which  can  alone  enable  those  powers  to  perform  their 
highest  functions.  From  earliest  years,  his  mother  had  taught 
him,  that  the  great  secret  of  education  was,  to  think  deeply  and 
correctly.  She  encouraged  the  curiosity,  native  to  childhood,  and 
no  tale  was  read  by  him,  but  she  instructed  him  as  to  its  moral ; 
no  plaything  amused  him,  without,  at  the  same  time,  furnishing 
aliment  to  his  tender,  yet  ingenuous  mind.  The  mimic  ship  which 
affection  gave  him,  was  not  merely  to  float  in  the  little  trough  of 
water  for  his  amusement;  it  taught  him  how  continents  were 
discovered,  how  the  seas  were  navigated,  and  naval  battles  fought, 


A    TALE     OF    SOITTHEKN    LIFE.  121 

BO  that  the  names  of  Colurabus,  of  Decatur,  and  of  Perry,  were 
associated  with  his  earliest  and  fondest  recollections.  But  wo 
have  not  time  to  dwell  upon  this  seed-time  of  life,  vital  as  it  is  for 
weal  or  woe ;  nor  to  follow  him  through  his  academic  career,  in 
which  all  the  high  hopes  and  expectations  of  his  friends  were 
fully  realized.  We  will  stay  but  a  moment,  to  remark,  that  he 
adopted  as  his  rule  of  study,  to  read  but  few  books,  and  to  read 
those  well  and  thoroughly.  He  had  studied,  for  instance,  the 
Oration  of  Demosthenes  for  the  crown,  as  he  studied  a  proposition 
of  Euclid,  analyzing  it,  and  making  himself  understand,  if  possi- 
ble, in  what  lay  the  wondrous  power,  the  matchless  success  of  the 
great  oratOr.  And  Milton  furnished  his  mind  with  that  magni- 
•ficent  imagery,  those  strong  and  felicitous  expressions,  which 
so  glow  upon  every  page  of  the  Paradise  Lost.  The  Bible  and 
Shakespeare  were  ever  read  with  fresh  delight,  and,  apart  from  all 
other  advantages,  gave  him  a  beauty  of  style,  and  a  knowledge 
of  the  hidden  springs  of  the  heart,  quite  remarkable.  To  the  old 
pure  wells  of  English  literature  he  resorted,  to  slake  the  burning 
thirst  of  his  intellect,  passing  by  those  broken  cisterns,  which  hold 
no  water.  When,  as  a  student  of  law,  he  cast  his  eye  upon  those 
massive  columns  of  legal  lore  piled  up  in  the  lawyer's  library,  his 
heart  would  have  misgiven  him,  his  courage  would  have  failed, 
had  he  not  assured  himself,  that  in  some  comparatively  few 
elementary  works,  he  could  find  the  principles,  which  ingenuity 
had  hammered  out,  and  expanded,  until  a  page  of  the  old  terse 
law  writer  should  fill  a  folio  of  a  modern  compiler.  The  tho- 
roughly reasoned  opinions  in  which  eminent  judges  embodied 
the  learning  of  the  law,  masterpieces  of  juridical  science,  and 
classical  taste,  he  studied  with  greatest  enthusiasm.  And 
when  he  decided  to  make  his  home  in  Louisiana,  where  a  diftie- 
rent  system  of  law  prevailed  from  that  to  which  his  attention  had 
been  directed  at  the  law  school,  he  repaired  to  the  fountains  of 

6 


123  -      woman's   faith. 

the  civil  law,  making  himself  master  of  that  great  body  of  legal 
ethics  in  the  Pandects  of  Justinian,  and  the  luminous  commen- 
taries of  Pothier  and  Duranton,  upon  that  code,  in  which  the 
wonderful  genius  and  industry  of  Napoleon  caused  to  be  gathered, 
from  almost  chaotic  materials,  and  to  be  embodied  in  a  precise 
and  accurate  form,  the  great  rules  of  right,  which  should  govern 
mankind  in  the  varied  transactions  of  life.  With  such  a  mind,  so 
trained,  and  stored,  he  could  safely  enter  upon  that  vast  arena, 
where  are  marshalled  for  the  conflict  the  most  powerful  intellects. 
His  bright  and  keen  falchion  had  not,  it  is  true,  been  drawn  from 
its  scabbard  ;  but  polished  as  it  was,  and  in  the  hands  of  one  so 
adroit  and  skillful,  he  had  little  cause  to  fear  an  opponent.  And 
as  his  profession  required  that  there  should  not  only  be  laid  up 
these  large  intellectual  stores,  but  that  he  should  possess  the 
somewhat  rare  faculty  of  using  his  knowledge,  as  his  was  to  be 
the  task  of  leading  men's  minds,  most  diligently  did  he  study  the 
rhetorician's  art,  as  it  has  come  down  to  us  from  the  great 
masters  of  eloquence.  Could  you  have  seen  his  face  glow,  as  he 
read  and  re-read  that  unrivalled  specimen  of  popular  oratory,  the 
speech  of  Mark  Antony  over  the  body  of  Caesar,  which  the  sweet 
bard  of  Avon  has  given  us,  you  might  have  perceived  that  he  was 
preparing  himself  to 

"  Steal  men's  hearts." 

And  that  he  would  have : — 

"  Action,  utterance,  and  the  power  of  speech, 

To  stir  men's  blood." 

In  figure  and  in  person  he  was  not  unlike  the  Roman  consul. 
Tall  and  erect,  his  closely  knit  and  contracted  frame,  was  strik- 
ingly imposing.    His  handsome  head,  gracefully  sitting  upon  the 


A    TALE    OF    SOUTHERN    LIFE.  123 

firm,  full  neck;  his  black  hair  curling  over  his  ample  brow, 
and  his  keen  eye,  flashing  with  the  prophet's  fire ;  the  dark 
lineaments  of  the  face,  lighted  up  by  the  lamp  of  his  mind, 
he  at  once  impressed  you  with  an  interest  of  no  ordinary 
character. 


124  woman's  faith. 


CHAPTER    XXVl. 

Father,  do  tell  me  "  said  Louise,  "  what  mystery  there  is  about 
that  letter  you  received  this  morning,  which  seems  to  afford  you 
such  sly  amusement." 

"  Oh,  it  was  only  upon  business,  which,  perhaps,  you  might  be 
better  prepared  to  reply  to  than  I.  But  as  it  was  addressed  to 
myself,  and  from  a  professional  gentleman,  it  may  be  as  well  to 
give  a  guarded  answer.  Possibly  you  know  the  handwriting;" 
and  he  showed  her  the  envelope.  She  remarked  "  she  was  as 
ignorant  of  the  chirography,  as  of  the  contents  of  the  epistle." 

"  You  say,  father,  that  the  curiosity  of  a  lady  is  well-nigh 
insatiable ;  why,  then,"  said  Louise,  "  tempt  us,  by  first  exciting 
desire,  and  then  cruelly  withholding  the  gratification  of  it,  parti- 
cularly when  it  is  about  so  insignificant  an  affair  as  a  communi- 
cation upon  business." 

Rallying  Louise,  as  he  had  accomplished  his  object,  he  left  the 
young  ladies  to  reply  to  this  letter,  which  deeply  affected  the 
future  fate  and  happiness  of  his  eldest  daughter.  The  arrival  of 
William  Burns  a  few  days  after  was  the  consequence  of  this  cor- 
respondence. His  coming  was  welcomed  with  that  generous 
hospitality  so  grateful  to  a  visitor,  and  although  the  pulsations  of 
the  heart  of  Louise  were  somewhat  quickened,  she  little  dreamed 
that  the  letter,  with  which  her  father  had  teased  her  a  few  days 
before,  had  anything  to  do  with  this  agreeable  reunion. 

"I  am  glad,  Mr.  Burns,"  said  Louise,  "that  the  monotony  of 
Oak  Lawn,  did  not  give  you  such  a  distaste  for  it,  as  to  deprive 


A    TALE     OF    SOUTHERN    LIFE.  126 

US  of  a  second  visit.  You  are  julL  in  time  for  a  party  given 
by  Mrs.  Montegre,  and  delighted  will  Blanche  and  myself  be,  as  we 
will  not  now  necessarily  be  wall  flowers  in  that  brilliant  assembly." 

"  Nothing  would  give  me  more  pleasure  than  to  be  accepted  as 
your  gallant  on  the  evening  indicated." 

"  I  have  only,"  said  Louise,  "  to  advise  you  to  guard  well  your 
heart,  if  you  have  any  desire  to  retain  it,  for  the  fascinating  and 
bewitching  young  ladies  you  will  meet  with  to  night  are  so  accus- 
tomed to  conquest,  that  most  of  our  gay  cavaliers  at  once  lay  down 
all  opposition,  and  surrender  at  discretion." 

"  But  suppose,  Miss  Louise,  they  find  the  citadel  already  suc- 
cessfully assailed,  and  in  the  possession  of  some  fair  conqueror  ?" 

"  Open  and  avowed  allegiance,"  replied  Louise,  "  alone  confer 
rights  that  are  respected.  A  mere  preference  insures  no  protec- 
tion, so  I  advise  you,  if  at  your  home,  or  in  the  New  England,  you 
love  so  well,  there  dwells  some  fair  one  in  whose  ear  you  have 
breathed  the  tender  vow,  look  well  to  your  fidelity,  for  to-night 
it  will  be  put  to  a  test  most  trying." 

"  I  must  admit,"  said  Burns,  "  that  I  am  under  the  influence  of 
a  spell  or  incantation  that  laughs  to  scorn  all  resistance,  and  am 
now  at  the  mercy  of  another.  Yet  I  have  not  found  sufficient 
courage  to  make  an  avowal.  Preferring  to  suffer  the  pangs  of 
suspense,  than  risk  all  upon  an  offer." 

"And  think  you,"  said  Louise,  "that  your  fair  inamorata 
knows  not  all,  or  do  you  prefer  to  '  let  concealment,  like  the  worm 
in  the  bud,  feed  on  your  damask  cheek  V  I  suspect  your  sex  is 
made  of  sterner  stuff"  than  roseleaves,  and  that  all  hope  and  peace 
will  not  fade  and  perish  from  the  icy  breath  of  unrequited  affec- 
tion." 

"  Such  is  very  apt  to  be  the  judgment,"  said  Bums,  "  of  those, 
who  being  quite  secure  themselves  in  the  possession  of  absolute 
power,  smile  upon  the  fears  and  suflferings  of  their  subjects.     I 


126  woman's  faith. 

shall  feel  myself  quite  safe  fftm  the  assaults  of  beauty,  shielded  as 
I  shall  be  by  my  fair  companion." 

"  Do  you  promise  to  make  confession,  true  and  full,  after  the 
ordeal  is  passed,  Mr.  Burns  ?" 

"  Yes,  complete  and  ample,  and  at  every  hazard." 

Necessary  might  have  been  the  warnings  of  Louise,  had  not 
the  heart  of  her  listener  been  all  her  own,  for  brilliant  with 
beauty,  and  sparkling  with  wit  and  witching  manners,  were  the 
fair  enchantresses  in  the  elegant  saloons  of  Mrs.  Montegre  that 
night,  and  cold  would  have  been  the  nature,  that  could  have 
resisted  the  power  of  their  fascination.  Were  not  the  susceptible 
feelings  of  Louise  a  little  uneasy,  as  she  saw  before  her,  a  face, 
radiant  with  smiles  and  beauty,  and  lit  up  with  delight,  as  she 
was  listening  to  the  conversation  of  William  Burns,  If  not,  why 
with  an  air  of  abstraction  did  she  pay  so  little  heed  to  the  flatter- 
ing and  playful  badinage  of  George  Manners,  and  by  an  ill-timed 
remark,  discover  that  her  thoughts  were  elsewhere,  at  the  very 
time  that  her  gallant  admirer  fancied  he  was  making  a  decided 
impression.  Although  she  would  scarcely  admit  to  herself  the  deep 
interest  with  which  the  handsome,  gifted  advocate  had  inspired 
her,  yet  she  could  not  feel  quite  easy,  when  she  saw  him  exposed 
to  shafts  in  the  hands  of  so  experienced  an  archer.  She  might 
indeed  have  considered  herself  safe  enough,  as  she  so  often  caught 
his  eye  fixed  steadily  upon  herself,  and  his  most  winning  smile 
reserved  for  such  recognition.  Upon  their  return  home,  Louise 
playfully  remarked  to  Burns  as  they  sat  in  an  embrasure  of  the 
window,  "  now  for  the  confession  you  promised  before  we  started 
for  the  party.  Was  not  your  heart  taken  captive  by  the  smiles 
of  beauty?" 

"  Yes,  but  it  was  the  same  sweet  smile  that  months  since  quite 
entranced  me,  that  now  fills  my  whole  being  with  rapture,  and 
without  which,  life  would  be  dark  indeed.    Make  me,  Miss  Louise, 


A    TALE     OP     80UTHEEN     LIFE.  127 

the  happiest  of  mortals  by  a  smile  of  assent,  while  I  ask  your 
acceptance  of  a  heart  all  your  own." 

The  mantling  blushes  which  crimsoned  the  face  of  Louise,  and 
the  wild,  tumultuous  beatings  of  her  bosom,  showed  that  she  was 
not  prepared  for  this  eclaircissement. 

"  I  have  the  permission  of  your  father,  Miss  Louise,  in  the  pro- 
posal I  have  dared  to  make ;  may  I  not  hope  that  you  will  ratify 
that  assent  ?" 

"  You  need  no  formal  acceptance,  Mr.  Bums,  no  assurance,  that 
your  love  is  all  reciprocated.  I  suspect  my  conduct  at  the  party 
of  Mrs.  Montegi-e  must  have  betrayed  the  partiality  I  felt  for  you, 
as  I  confess,  I  was  then  full  of  apprehension,  and  again  and  again 
lamented  that  I  had  exposed  you  to  the  influence  of  such  charm- 
ing young  ladies.  Now  that  it  is  over,  my  pride  is  gratified  that 
you  were  proof  against  such  magic  arts  as  there  must  have  assailed 
you." 

"  Had  not  my  heart  been  all  preoccupied,"  said  Bums,  "  and  had 
not  you  been  present,  I  might  have  felt  deeply  the  power  of  fasci- 
nating ladies,  but  not  without  reason  was  I  rallied  by  the  hand- 
some Miss  Lefroy  as  she  detected  the  glances  of  my  eyes."  An 
hour  filled  up  with  agreeable  confessions  quickly  passed,  when  Mr. 
Lefort  came  in  upon  our  lovers,,  and  telling  Louise  that  her  mother 
desired  her  presence,  she  bade  good  night  to  her  too  happy  lover, 

"  Now,  I  suppose,"  said  Blanche,  "  you  will  not  be  quite  so  coy, 
Louise,  when  I  speak  of  the  attentions  of  Mr.  Bums." 

"The  only  way  I  can  relieve  myself,"  said  Louise,  "from  all 
annoyance,  is  by  confession,  so  I  will  tell  you  frankly,  William  has 
ofiered,  and  I  have  accepted." 

"  Oh !  Louise,  why  did  you  not  tease  him  a  little  ?  When  you 
were  sure  of  his  preference,  and  felt  certain  of  his  love,  then  it 
would  have  been  so  nice  to  throw  in  some  buts  and  ifs,  till  he  was 
tortured  a  little  with  apprehension.  If  I  were  a  fish  I  would  not 
be  caught  but  by  the  most  skillful  angler,  and  until  he  had  exposed 


128  woman's   faith. 

every  retreat,  and  with  the  utmost  pains  and  care  taken  me  most 
winningly  from  tlie  water." 

Now  that  Bums  was  regarded  as  the  accepted  lover  of  Louise, 
he  rendered  himself  irresistibly  attractive  to  each  member  of  that 
family.  His  delicate,  respectful  attentions  to  Mrs.  Lefort,  and  the 
eagerness  with  which  he  entered  into  all  the  arrangements  of 
Blanche,  won  for  him  their  most  affectionate  regard.  Already 
did  Blanche  treat  him  as  a  brother. 

"  But  you  must  understand,"  she  said  to  him, "  in  this  early  stage 
of  your  engagement,  that  you  are  not  to  take  Louise  away  from  us. 
We  could  not  possibly  get  along  without  her.  Mother  has  so  long 
depended  upon  her  in  all  our  domestic  arrangements,  and  she  has 
been  so  constantly  my  companion,  that  we  could  not  be  reconciled 
to  her  departure." 

"  We  have  not,"  said  Bums, "  so  far  advanced  in  our  future  as  to 
talk  of  home,'separate  from  this  most  delightful  abode.  I  shall 
leave  all  these  questions  to  be  settled,  when  time  and  occasion 
demand  it." 

"  You  must,  now,  Mr.  Bums,"  said  Mrs.  Lefort,  "  look  upon  this 
as  your  home.  Our  little  family  could  not  be  deprived  of  one  of 
its  members,  without  leaving  a  void,  which  would  bring  sadness 
to  all  our  hearts.  I  only  gave  my  consent  to  any  proposition, 
looking  to  matrimonial  results,  but  upon  the  express  condition  that 
our  family  circle  was  not  to  be  broken  by  the  loss  of  one  of  its 
members."  " Mr.  Burns  and  myself,"  said  Mr.  Lefort,  "will  arrange 
all  this.  It  is  hardly  fair  just  now  to  press  upon  him  a  decision 
upon  this  matter,  just  at  this  moment.  We  have  a  strong  ally  in 
Louise,  and  need  not  fear  that  she  will  fail  in  any  fair  and  proper 
request  at  the  hands  of  Mr.  Bums." 

The  position  that  he  now  occupied  at  the  bar  as  an  advocate 
and  a  jurist  were  such,  that  his  services  were  always  eagerly 
sought  in  any  controversy  before  the  courts.  He  had  formed  such 
a  professional  connection,  as  relieved  him  from  all  the  mere  details 


A    TALE    OF    SOUTHERN     LIFE.  129 

of  business,  and  by  spending  a  day  or  two  in  ]?is  office  each  week, 
he  could  comply  with  all  the  wishes  of  his  clients.  The  sessions 
of  the  courts  being  but  few  through  the  year,  he  had  ample  leisure 
for  the  prepai'ation  of  his  cases,  and  it  mattered  little  in  what  part 
of  the  parish  might  be  his  residence.  He  could  now  employ  his 
time  so  systematically,  and  in  so  undisturbed  a  manner,  that  with- 
out trenching  upon  his  professional  duties,  he  could  devote  that 
attention  to  the  science  of-  government,  to  the  political  affairs  of 
the  country,  which  had  ever  been  with  him  an  object  most  desir- 
able. His  popularity  here  opened  for  him  a  wide  field,  and  he 
had  but  to  thrust  in  his  sickle  and  reap  such  harvest,  as  his  talents 
and  acquirements  might  win  for  himself.  But  we  must  for  the 
present  leave  Oak  Lawn,  and  its  inmates,  assuring  our  readers  that 
here,  as  elsewhere,  the  course  of  law  and  politics,  and,  shall  I 
name  it  in  this  connection,  of  love,  smoothly  ran  on,  as  there  was 
but  little  opportunity  for  misunderstanding  or  disappointment. 


«• 


130  woman's  faith. 


CHAPTER   XXVII. 

We  pass  over  some  years,  in  the  story  which  we  are  relating ; 
for  it  is  impossible  to  dwell  upon  the  every-day  events,  which  go 
to  make  up  the  lives  of  individuals. 

Many  and  interesting  have  been  the  vicissitudes,  which  have 
marked  the  lives  and  fortunes  of  those  who  have  jfigured  in  the 
foregoing  pages.  "  The  smiles  of  joy,  and  tears  of  woe,"  liave 
alternately  brightened  the  pathway,  or  embittered  the  cup  of 
those,  in  whose  progress  we  have  taken  an  interest.  The  engage- 
ment which  had  existed  between  William  Burns  and  Louise 
Lefort,  had  received  its  happy  termination — in  renewing  their 
vows  at  the  altar,  and  hearing,  from  the  lips  of  the  holy  man,  the 
words  which  made  them  man  and  wife. 

Three  bright  little  cherubs  cheer,  with  their  glad  voices,  the 
cottage  at  Oak  Lawn,  and  one  is  not. 

The  fell  destroyer,  snatched  the  first-born,  when  the  opening 
flower  gave  promise  of  the  ripened  fruit.  But  those  tears  have 
dried,  while  with  a  softened  melancholy,  a  lovely  woman  gazes 
upon  that  small  grassy  knoll,  over  which  the  tiny  hands  of  a  bright 
boy,  and  two  smiling  girls  are  flinging  handfuls  of  wild  flowers, 
and  the  mother's  heart  now  is  animated  with  a  new  joy,  as  she 
welcomes  back  from  Congressional  Halls,  the  idol  of  her  bosom. 

Happiness  still  presides  at  the  hospitable  board  in  the  cottage 
of  Lefort.  Years  have  dealt  kindly  with  the  honored  heads  of 
that  family,  and  but  little  are  they  changed  from  the  time  we  first 
introduced  them  to  our  readers.     William  Bums  has  served  his 


A     TALE     OF     80UTHEBN     LIFE.  131 

first  term  in  the  councils  of  the  nation,  and  fully  realized  the  high 
expectations  of  his  friends.  His  wife  still  possesses  those  charms, 
which  rendered  her  so  generally  a  favorite.  No  one  of  that 
household  is  so  changed  as  Blanche.  The  bright,  "brilliant  sallies 
of  wit,  which  once  sparkled  in  all  her  conversati9n,  now  seldom, 
if  ever,  are  heard  from  her  lips.  Her  face  is  not,  as  once  it  was, 
now  glowing  in  the  sunshine  of  a  perpetual  smile ;  sober  thoughts 
liave  chased  away  the  gladdening  expression,  that  years  ago 
beamed  upon  that  lovely  countenance.  To  all  but  those  who, 
from  closest  intimacy,  were  permitted  to  read  the  revealings  of 
her  heart,  there  appeared  but  the  change  which  time  would  work. 
To  her  sister,  even,  had  Blanche,  never  by  word,  or  scarcely  by 
look,  betrayed  the  secret,  which  was  marring  her  happiness.  She 
had  favored  the  idea  which  Louise  adopted,  that  Paris,  with  its 
attractions,  was  now  remembered  with  more  interest  than  ever, 
and  that  as  she  heard  of  exiles,  returning  to  their  native  lands, 
their  glittering  honors,  and  their  estates  restored,  she  pined  for 
a  return  to  her  earliest  home.  Little  did  she  dream,  that  for 
years,  Blanche  had  been  cherishing,  as  a  sweet  vision,  the  return 
of  Charles  Grafton,  and  that  again  from  his  lips,  she  would  hear 
those  expressions  of  interest,  which  had  fired  her  youthful  fancy. 
She  could  not  account  for  his  long  silence,  his  terribly  protracted 
absence.  We  can  only  explain  to  the  reader,  by  going  back  upon 
our  history. 

The  conduct  of  Frank  Grafton  had  been  marked  by  such 
flagrant  outrages,  that  he  could  be  no  longer  tolerated  in  society. 
The  midnight  orgies,  in  which  he  often  indulged,  and  the  terrible 
conflicts  which  took  place  between  the  maddened  revellers,  was 
the  subject  of  remark  everywhere.  He  was  regarded  as  despe- 
rate, as  he  was  abandoned,  and  he  was  therefore  shunned  by  all, 
except  those  who  were  as  wicked  as  himself. 

His  bitterest  hostility  was  aroused  towards  William  Bums,  and 
as  he  was  now  a  member  of  the  family  of  Lefort,  it  was  natural 


132  '  woman's     TAITH. 

that  he  should  regard,  with  no  kindly  feeling,  those  connected 
with  him.  Blanche  had  heard  of  some  sneering  remarks,  which 
he  had  made  concerning  her  father,  which,  in  connection  with 
his  conduct,  had  rendered  him  an  object  c£  disgust. 

Returning  from  an  evening  ride,  she  saw  him  approaching  her, 
and  stung  by  the  bitterness  of  his  unprovoked  expressions  con- 
cerning her  father,  she  resolved  to  pass  him  without  recognition. 
He  drew  up  his  handsome  steed,  and,  with  a  most  gracious  bow, 
was  about  accosting  her,  when  she  passed  him,  as  if  he  had  been 
a  perfect  stranger.  He  was  deeply  chagrined  and  mortified  by 
this  cut  direct. 

"I  will  bide  my  time.  Miss  Haughty,"  he  said  to  himself; 
"but,  be  sure,  that  for  this  slight,  I  will  have  complete  and 
ample  vengeance.  And  yet  it  is  hard,  for,  I  suppose,  she  is 
instructed  by  her  starched  «ld  papa,  or  hsr  virtuous  brother-in- 
law.  I  can  reach  them  through  her,  and  she  must  be  the 
victim." 

Through  the  letters  Frank  Grafton  received  from  his  brother, 
and  from  what  he  had  heard,  when  on  visiting  terms  with  the 
family,  he  was  satisfied  that  there  was  a  sentiment  of  more  than 
mere  friendship,  between  his  brother  and  Blanche.  He  knew  his 
sensitive  nature,  the  depth  and  strength  of  his  feelings,  and  was 
sure,  that  one  as  handsome  and  as  gifted  as  he  really  considered 
Charles  to  be,  would  make  an  impression  upon  a  girl  like 
Blanche,  of  the  strongest  character.  "  And  that  love  and  admira- 
tion," said  Frank  to  himself,  "  shall  be  nursed  and  strengthened, 
aye,  a  thousand  fold,  even  in  its  hopelessness." 

"  I  will  direct  the  dart.  The  poison  with  which  it  is  freighted 
shall  be  slow,  yet  sure,  drying  up,  by  slowest  process,  the  fountain 
of  life  and  happiness. 

"  In  her,  are  centered  the  joy  of  the  household  of  Lefort ;  they 
shall  but  guess  at  the  cause  of  that  grief,  which  is  consuming  the 
bloom  upon  that  fair  cheek,  destroying  those  rounded,  elegant  pro- 


A     TALE    OF    SOUTHERN     LIFE.  133 

portions,  which  now  give  such  grace  and  beauty  of  .form,  to  her 
whom  they  so  fondly  cherish.  ..'.../♦  /.:iij  .•*  •, 

"And  yet  is  not  this  difficult- of  .accomplishments '  All  the 
better.  Will  it  not  occupy  those  hours,  which  now  are' full  of 
dark  despondency,  in  which  are  ever  floating  before  my  imagina- 
tion, the  whitened  corse  of  Emma,  and  the  bloodless  face,  and 
staring  eye  of  that  poor  fool,  who  forced  me  to  take  his  life  upon 
the  field  ?  And  when,  or  where  has  the  word  cannot,  intervened 
for  the  prevention  of  any  coveted  object  which  I  had  determined 
to  accomplish? 

"  I  sometimes  feel  as  if  some  spirits  from  the  dark  abyss  were 
connusant  ot  my  dark  design ;  and  from  their  horrid,  murky 
caverns,  forged  the  instruments  by  which  they  were  to  be  con 
summated. 

The  dark,  swarthy  face  of  Grafton,  gleamed  with  an  almost 
unearthly  expression,  and  a  sardonic  smile  lighted  up  his  features, 
as  he  thus  spoke  to  himself. 

"Ha,  ha,  ha,  how  shall  my  vengeance  be  glutted,  and  a  new  and 
darker  page  shall  be  written  for  the  drama  of  life ;  and  yet,  I 
confess,  it  sometimes  awakens  remorse,  that  Charles,  my  only 
brother,  whom  I  really  love,  and  who  has  truly  sympathized  with 
me  in  my  troubles,  should  necessarily  partake  of  the  ingredients 
of  that  cup,  which  I  have  mingled  for  others." 

And  he  would  then  hesitate,  as  if  a  better  sentiment,  imprinted 
in  earlier  years  upon  his  mind,  and  which  the  spirit  of  evil  had 
not  quite  blotted  out,  was  exerting  an  influence  upon  his  fell  pur- 
poses. But  a  more  potent,  because  a  more  encouraged  principle, 
would  come  to  the  rescue  of  this  cherished  object,  furnishing  argu- 
ments, and  removing  objections  in  the  furtherance  of  his  precon- 
ceived plans. 

"The  love  of  Charles  will  soon  be  obliterated  in  the  presence  of 
new  objects  of  interest.    He  knew  Blanche  but  a  short  time;  there 


134  woman's   faith. 

was  no  engagement,  and  so  far  as  he  knew,  no  reciprocation  of 
the  sentiment,  which  he  may  have  been  indulging-. 

"Better  for  hira  to  marry,  in  Virginia,  a  woman  of  high  position 
and  of  wealth,  American  in  her  tastes  and  education.  Such  a 
connection  will  give  him  an  enviable  influence,  and  a  standing  in 
society.  And  how  it  would  humble  the  lofty  pride,  and  high 
pretensions  of  the  emigrant  family  at  Oak  Lawn.  Charles  would 
soon  forget  a  love,  which  may,  for  the  moment,  possess  him,  and 
my  plans  and  doings  would  not  essentially  affect  his  happiness. 

"And  would  not  my  good  have  been  promoted,  the  lives  of 
others  saved,  if  some  fortunate  circumstance  could  have  intervened 
to  have  prevented  my  marriage  with  Helen  ?  I  thought  I  loved 
her,  that  my  whole  existence  would  be  a  blank,  without  her 
society,  and  when  she  declined  the  proffer  of  iny  heart,  the  very 
skies  above  my  head  seemed  as  molten  brass,  and  the  solid  earth 
but  one  great  crater  of  burning  lava. 

But  was  not  this  all  imaginary  and  unreal  ?  for  when  by  atten- 
tions, the  most  assiduous,  an  affectation  of  virtue,  a  mock  humi- 
lity, -and  by  an  assumed  dejection,  I  had  won  her,  I  hardly 
thought  her  worth  the  wearing. 

"Heigho!  Charles  must  not  thwart  a  project  upon  which  hang 
results  to  me,  so  desirable." 

By  such  considerations,  all  the  objections,  which  ever  arose  in 
his  mind,  were  met  and  obviated.  He  now  set  to  work,  for  the 
completion  of  his  purpose,  and  to  it,  he  gave  the  whole  of  his 
powerful  intellect. 

In  his  letters  to  Charles,  while  speaking  of  the  society,  in  the 
neighborhood  of  Oak  Lawn,  of  the  parties  that  he  had  attended, 
he  would  give  him  most  graphic  descriptions.  In  praising  the 
beauty  and  accomplishments  of  the  ladies,  he  would  remark  upon 
the  frivolity  of  the  French  character,  their  ladies  are  so  volatile, 
80  fond  of  coquetry,  so  gratified  by  the  power  of  making  a  con- 


A    TALE     OF     BOUTHEKN    LIFE.  136 

quest,  that  they  lose  that  charm,  which  forms  part  of  the  character 
of  our  native  born,  American  ladies. 

He  would  allude  to  the  matches,  de  convenance,  so  general  in 
French  families;  that  scarcely  ever  with  them  was  marriage  an 
affair  of  the  heart,  but  family,  wealth,  or  high  position,  were  the 
surest  of  success,  where  rival  suitors  were  offering  their  devoirs  at 
the  shrine  of  beauty.  He  spoke  of  the  family  of  Lefort,  and  that 
they  were  pursuing  the  even  tenor  of  their  way,  that  it  was  said, 
the  family  were  greatly  disappointed  in  their  ambitious  expecta- 
tions of  Burns,  as  he  had  settled  down  upon  the  honors  and  fame 
won  in  a  county  court ;  that  like  most  men,  when  not  incited  by 
the  spur  of  ambition,  or  necessity,  he  gave  himself  up  to  the 
enjoyment  of  ease,  and  in  the  comforts  of  his  home,  at  Lefort's, 
gladly  found  recreation  from  the  cares  of  business.  He  added 
that  Blanche  was  as  gay  and  full  of  romance  as  ever,  and  lived 
only  to  gratify  the  wishes  of  her  father.  He  adroitly  remarked, 
that  after  toying  with  dozens  of  young  Creoles,  she  was  now 
regarded  as  the  special  object  of  interest,  of  a  very  wealthy 
planter,  whom  the  family  had  been  courting,  most  assiduously,  and 
whose  influence  and  position  were  by  them  greatly  coveted. 

By  this  means,  he  intended  to  wean  his  brother  from  all  those 
prepossessions  which  he  might  have  indulged  for  Blanche,  and 
induce  him  to  bury  in  forge tfulness,  as  idle  day  dreams,  all  his 
expectations  of  a  marriage  with  her. 

He  now  mingled  more  than  ever  in  society.  To  the  acquain- 
tances of  his  brother  Charles,  he  spoke  of  the  great  success  he 
was  attaining,  as  a  popular  debater  in  his  native  State.  He  had 
been  greatly  gratified  by  the  complimentary  notices,  which  the 
leading  papers  were  giving  of  his  speeches,  in  discussions  with 
some  of  the  far-famed  orators  of  Virginia.  He  was  told  that 
Charles  was  greatly  caressed,  and  now  a  general  favorite  in  society. 
He  said  he  was  sorry  to  know,  as  his  letters  to  him  indicated, 
that  he  was  astonished  that  he  could  ever  have  felt  an  interest  in 


136  woman's  faith. 

Louisiana  scenes,  or  relished  society,  so  limited  in  their  ideas — 
that  the  very  scenery  of  Virginia,  so  grand  and  beautiful  vras  most 
inspiring,  and  had  awakened  within  him  those  energies,  which 
were  nearly  paralyzed  by  the  enervating  effect  of  a  southern 
climate. 

To  a  young  lady,  who  had  ever  been  envious  of  the  attractions 
of  Blanche,  and  who  had  been  stung,  by  the  preferences  she  had 
unwittingly  secured  from  some  young  beau,  he  addressed  the  fol- 
lowing conversation : 

"  I  am  glad  Mr.  Grafton,"  said  Miss  Eloise  Florian,  "  that  you 
have  abandoned  your  recluse  life  and  now  add  to  the  general  joy 
of  our  society  by  your  presence." 

"  I  thank  you.  Miss  Eloise,"  said  Grafton,  "  for  the  kindness  of 
your  remark.  If  T  could  repay  but  half  the  pleasure  which  I 
derive  from  the  hospitality  of  those  whose  invitations  afford  me 
so  much  gratification,  I  should  not  feel  myself  to  be  so  great  a 
debtor." 

"We  shall  all  be  happy,  Mr.  Grafton,  if  we  can  indulge  the 
belief,  that  the  obligation  is  but  mutual.  Do  tell  me  when  you 
heard  from  your  charming  brother  ?" 

"  He  writes  me  frequently,  said  Mr.  Grafton." 

"  Does  he  hold  out  no  promise  of  a  return  to  Louisiana  ?"  said 
Eloise.  "I  might  perhaps  have  acquired  this  information  from 
another  quarter,  but  some  young  ladies  are  so  coy,  and  affect  such 
an  air  of  indifference,  that  I  dislike  to  gratify  them,  by  inquiries, 
as  if  they  alone  had  the  power  of  enlightening  us  poor  mortals." 

"Your  sex,  I  suspect,  are  not  entirely  free  from  a  spice  of  jealousy. 
Miss  Eloise,  at  least  I  judge  so  from  observation.  Let  me  bespeak 
your  indulgence,  for  I  see  from  the  curl  upon  your  lip,  that  you 
regard  the  remark  as  personal.    Am  I  pardoned  ?" 

"  Certainly,  Mr.  Grafton.  I  was  not  aware  that  I  discovered  any 
feeling,"  said  Eloise,  "  for  you  will  permit  me  to  say,  that  of  all 
ladies,  those  to  whom   I   alluded,  would  be  the  last  to  excite 


A    TALE    OF    SOrTHEKN    LIFE.  137 

enmity  or  jealousy  in  my  bosom.     But  pray  tell  mo  of  your 
brother." 

"  He  has  decided,"  said  Grafton,  "  to  remain  in  Virginia.  I  fear 
he  has  been  too  much  flattered  by  some  success,  as  a  public 
speaker  there,  and  will  give  up  all  expectation  of  a  return  to 
Louisiana." 

"  Has  he  become  a  politician  ?"  said  Eloise.  "  I  suppose  we  shall 
soon  hear  of  him,  as  a  distinguished  member  of  Congress." 

"  He  has  always  had  a  fondness,"  said  Grafton,  "  for  public  dis- 
cussion. Virginia,  you  know,  has  ever  been  famous  as  the  nursery 
of  eloquence,  and  statesmanship.  I  suspect  Charles  has  done  as 
others  have  before  him,  given  himself  up,  heart  and  soul,  to  public 
ajffairs." 

"  Oh,  no !"  said  Eloise,  "  if  I  have  not  been  misinformed,  he  had 
disposed  of  his  heart,  before  bidding  adieu  to  Louisiana.  A  cer-- 
tain  fair  lady  at  Oak  Lawn,  is  said  to  be  possessor  of  that  precious 
bauble.     Am  I  rightly  informed  upon  the  subject,  Mr.  Grafton  ?" 

"  Had  you  heard  that  my  brother  was  engaged  to  Miss  Lefort  ?" 
said  Grafton,  "  for  I  suppose  that  is  the  fair  demoiselle,  to  whom 
you  referred." 

"  Perhaps  not  precisely  an  engagement,"  replied  Eloise,  "  but  a 
sort  of  understanding,  depending  upon  the  assent  of  the  young 
lady.     Tell  me,  Mr.  Grafton,  am  I  correct  ?" 

"  I  scarcely  know,"  said  Grafton,  "  whether  I  ought  to  answel" 
your  queries.  I  fear  I  may  betray  the  confidence  of  my  brother, 
although  he  enjoined  no  secrecy.  But  with  the  promise  that  you 
will  keep  it,  at  least  for  the  present,  as  a  secret,  I  will  tell  you." 

"  Trust  me,  Mr.  Grafton,  I  will  be  as  close  as  an  oyster." 

"  If  my  brother  ever  entertaine<l  a  preference  for  any  lady  in 
Louisiana,  sure  I  am,  that  all  is  now  forgotten.  He  laughed  at 
his  sentimental,  lackadaisical  conversations  with  Miss  Lefort,  and 
says  '  he  is  glad  that  they  made  no  impression  upon  her  memory, 
or  heart.' " 


138  woman's  faith. 

"  Has  he  any  other  alliance  in  view  1"  said  Eloise. 

"  My  brother,  like  all  sensible  men,  sees  the  great  advantage  he 
might  acquire  by  a  marriage  with  one  of  wealth  and  position. 
In  Virginia,  where  they  pride  themselves  so  much  upon  family,  and 
high  connection,  it  is  all  important  to  a  young  aspirant  for  popular 
favor,  to  be  well  connected.  He  has  so  ingratiated  himself  into 
the  favor  of  one  of  the  senators  in  Congress,  by  a  boldj^  able  and 
successful  defence  of  his  political  course,  that  he  seeks  every  oppor- 
tunity to  promote  the  views  of  Charles.  And  I  heard  incidentally, 
the  other  day,  that  he  was  regarded  as  the  accepted  suitor  for 
the  hand  of  his  high-bom,  elegant,  and  accomplished  daughter." 

"  Oh !  how  it  will  nettle  Miss  Blanche  when  she  hears  this  news," 
said  Eloise. 

"  I  hope  she  will  not  learn  it  with  displeasure,  for  I  do  not  sup- 
pose, she  feels  any  interest  in  the  love  affairs  of  my  brother.  They 
were  good  friends,  while  he  was  here,  and  she  will  now  rejoice  in 
his  success," 

Well  did  Frank  Grafton  know  that  hours  would  not  intervene, 
before  the  secret  he  had  revealed,  would  reach  the  ears  of  Blanche, 
and  his  conversation  would  be  repeated  with  all  the  glosses, 
requisite  to  make  it  sufficiently  distasteful  to  her.  He  was  too 
much  of  a  master  of  the  human  heart  not  to  be  aware,  that  the 
rival  would  be  swift  to  publish  information,  which  would  tend  to 
the  disadvantage  of  one,  who  had  marred  her  prospects. 

Rightly  had  he  judged,  for  soon  after  he  saw  Miss  Eloise  in 
close  converse  with  Miss  Bums,  and  he  knew  from  the  expression  of 
the  countenances  of  the  parties,  that  his  object  was  being  fully 
accomplished. 

How  more  than  gratified  would  have  been  his  fiendish  dis- 
position, could  he  have  listened  to  the  conversation  we  are  about 
to  relate. 

"  Who  would  have  believed,"  said  Mrs.  Bums,  "  that  Charles 
Grafton,  would  so  soon  have  forgotten  all  his  friends  in  Louisiana? 


A     TALE     OF     SOUTHERN     LIFE.  139 

I  confess  his  long  silence  somewhat  surprised  me,  but  I  attributed 
it  to  the  conduct  of  his  brother." 

"  How  do  you  know  that  he  has  forgotten  us  ?"  said  Mr.  Lefort. 

"  I  had  a  long  conversation,"  said  Louise,  "last  evening  with  Eloise 
Florian,  who  seems  to  be  fully  acquainted  with  the  pursuits  and 
feelings  of  Charles  Grafton,  though  she  says  she  is  not  permitted, 
at  present,  to  give  her  authority.  There  is  such  minuteness  in  all 
her  statements,  that  it  seems  impossible  to  doubt  their  correctness." 

"  "What  did  she  say  to  you,  Louise  ?"  • 

*'  She  informed  me  of  the  distinction  Charles  was  now  winning, 
as  a  public  debater,  that  he  was  greatly  caressed  and  flattered, 
and  that  he  had,  by  his  fine  talents  and  accomplishments,  won 
the  heart,  and  been  promised  the  hand,  of  one  of  the  greatest 
belles  of  Virginia.  That  her  large  wealth  and  high  position  in 
society,  would  insure  for  Grafton  the  political  success,  which  his 
ambition  now  coveted.  This  I  had  expected,  but  I  confess,  I  was 
surprised,  that  he  should  have  so  far  forgotten  all  decency,  as  to 
have  sneered  at  intimacies  he  had  formed  in  Louisiana,  and 
laughed  at  the  idea  of  being  caught  by  a  little  French  emigrant, 
with  a  pretty  foot  and  face." 

"  I  can  hardly  believe  the  story,  asserted  by  Eloise.  I  have  seen," 
said  Mr.  Lefort,  "  reports  of  his  speeches  in  the  Richmond  papers, 
accompanied  by  high  eulogiums.  His  long  silence  would,  it  is 
true,  indicate  that  he  had  forgotten  us,  but  from  the  noble  quali- 
ties of  head  and  heart,  developed  by  his  conversation,  I  could 
scarcely  credit  what  has  been  said  of  his  conduct  towards  us." 

During  all  this  conversation,  Blanche  manifested  but  little 
interest,  and  yet,  her  heart  was  tortured  by  the  idea,  that  Charles  / 
had  ceased  to  think  of  her  with  regard.  She  would  not  permit 
herself  to  believe  in  the  bitter  sarcasm,  as  related  by  Eloise,  but 
greatly  feared,  that  the  heart  of  her  former  lover  had  been  won 
by  the  attractions  of  wealth  and  distinction.  ^ 

"  He  might  have  been  mine,"  she  said  to  herself.     "  I  was  only 


140  woman's  faith. 

to  permit  him  the  expression  of  his  love,  and  he  would  have 
gladly  offered  me  his  hand  and  heart.  But  if  distance  can  so 
soon  have  changed  him,  if  in  absence,  he  has  forgotten  all  those 
ties,  which  bound  him  to  Oak  Lawn,  better  that  I  should  thus 
early  have  learned  his  disposition  and  character,  and  not  have 
shipwrecked  all  future  happiness  by  trusting  to  one  so  fickle  and 
so  false.  And  yet  do  I  not  too  harshly  judge  him  ?  May  he  not 
have  supposed  from  my  conduct  that  I  felt  for  him  no  interest  ? 

"  I  would  not  permit  him  to  express  the  hope  that  when  success 
should  crown  his  future  career  with  honor,  that  he  might  then 
expect  to  win  a  love,  for  which,  he  said  he  would  willingly  spend 
years  of  the  most  arduous  toil.  If  from  me,  he  could  receive  no 
encouragement,  if  the  whole  future  of  his  existence  was  to  be 
cheered  by  no  ray  of  hope,  that  the  love,  which  glowed  in  his  own 
bosom,  could  be  reciprocated,  is  it  strange,  that  he  should  now  be 
basking  in  the  smile  of  some  fair  one,  who  would  appreciate  his 
worth  ?  I  will  not  believe  in  the  scandal,  which  has  been  uttered 
concerning  one,  so  noble  and  so  disinterested.  He  is  not  false. 
He  has  broken  no  vow,  he  has  slighted  no  promise. 

"  Worthily  will  he  wear  the  honors  conferred  upon  him  by  an 
admiring  people,  and  with  all  my  heart  do  I  wish  that  his  name 
may  be  inscribed  upon  the  highest  niche  in  the  Temple  of 
Fame." 

The  principal  apprehensions  Frank  Grafton  now  felt,  for  the 
success  of  this  villainous  schem'fe,  were,  that  Charles  might  write 
to  Mr.  Lefort  or  to  Blanche,  and  so  all  his  plans  would  be  frus- 
trated. 

It  now  seemed  as  if  the  agency  of  the  spirit  of  darkness  was 
leagued  with  him,  for  on  this  very  evening,  a  gentleman  from 
Virginia  arrived  at  his  house,  with  letters  of  introduction  from 
Charles,  and  inclosing  a  letter  to  Mr.  Lefort. 

It  is  impossible  to  describe  the  gratification  of  Frank,  at  thia 
unexpected  and  joyous  event. 


A     TALK     OF     SOUTHEKN     LIFE.  141 

His  great  happiness  so  excited  him,  that  his  welcomes  to  the 
stranger  were  most  warm  and  cheering. 

He  told  him,  he  could  hardly  give  him  time  to  make  his  toilet 
for  dinner,  so  anxious  was  he,  to  hear  from  his  brother.  Order- 
ing a  servant  to  take  the  luggage  of  Mr.  Stevenson,  he  accom- 
panied him  to  his  room,  and  said  he  should  impatiently  await  his 
return  to  the  parlor. 

With  what  eagerness  did  Grafton  eye  the  letter  of  his  brother 
to  Lefort ;  he  clutched  it,  as  if  he  were  afraid,  that  it  would  take 
wing  and  leave  him. 

He  broke  the  seal  and  rapidly  devoured  the  contents  of  the 
following  letter. 

"  RiOHUOND  1st  Jitne,  18 

*'  F.  Lefort,  Esq. 

"  Dear  Sir— May  I  indulge  the  hope  that  my  long  absence  from 
Louisiana  has  not  quite  obliterated  ail  trace  of  remembrance  of  one,  upon 
whose  heart  and  memory  are  engraved  the  sense  of  attentions,  most  kind 
and  courteous,  cordially  extended  to  him,  by  yourself  and  family. 
Mournful  as  will  ever  be  some  of  the  recollections  that  link  me  to  your 
adopted  State,  there  are  others,  which  throw  a  sweet  and  softened  light 
upon  scenes  ever  before  my  vision. 

"  How  beautiful  are  the  offerings  of  disinterested  kindness.  They  are 
the  green  spots,  upon  the  arid  wastes.  Like  the  sparkling  waters  from 
the  fountain  to  the  poor  wayfarer,  were  the  hospitalities  received  by  me, 
a  stranger  at  Oak  Lawn.  They  will  ever  be  among  the  most  cherished  of 
my  remembrances.  But  while  gratjitude  was  inspired  by  conduct,  so  dis- 
interested, will  you  permit  me  to  say  that  a  warmer  sentiment  grew  up  in 
my  heart,  that  now  earnestly  craves  your  approval. 

"  I  need  hardly  add,  that  the  graces  of  mind  and  manner,  the  delightful 
and  constant  exhibitions  of  a  most  generous  nature,  and  the  witching 
wiles  of  surpassing  beauty,  which  all  meet  in  your  daughter  Blanche,  were 
the  origin  and  aliment  of  that  sentiment.  The  hope  of  winning  her  regard 
has  been  the  main  spring  of  all  my  exertions,  making  light  the  severest 
toil,  and  dispersing  discouragement,  which  would  otherwise  have  caused 
me  to  falter,  while  ascending  the  steep,  upon  whose  rugged  brow,  smiles 
Fame's  fair  temple.    Pursuing  the  avenues,  which  she  laughingly  remark- 


142  woman's   faith. 

ed  were  opened  before  me,  I  have  been  far  more  successful  than  my 
merits  deserve.  The  partiality  of  my  friends,  has  secured  for  me  a  seat 
in  Congress.  My  property,  now  affords  me  a  handsome  income.  May  I 
not  venture  to  hope  you  will  permit  me,  to  come  to  Louisiana,  and  seek 
in  the  smiles  of  Miss  Blanche,  that  happiness,  which  wealth  or  honors  are 
inadequate  to  confer. 

"  With  my  kindest  regards  to  Mrs.  Lefort  and  your  family,  permit  me  to 
Bubecribe  myself, 

"  Very  respectfully,  your  obedient  servant, 

"Chables  Gbxbton." 


A    TALE    OF    SOUTHERN     LIFE.  143 


•       CHAPTER   XXVIII. 

Frank  Grafton  had  no  time  for  the  indulgence  of  feelings, 
which  were  almost  irrepressible.  It  required  all  his  strong  mind, 
fertile  as  it  was  in  expedients,  and  accustomed  to  put  on,  at  will, 
those  disguises,  which  might  be  passing  within  it,  to  conceal  his 
emotions.  The  return  of  Mr.  Stevenson  from  his  chamber,  found 
Grafton  wearing  his  blandest  smile  and,  apparently,  only  intent 
■upon  learning  of  his  brother's  welfare. 

"  When  did  you  leave  Virginia,  Mr.  Stevenson  ?"  said  Grafton, 
"  and  what  news  do  you  bring  us  ?" 

"  It  is  now  six  weeks,  since  I  parted  with  your  brother  in  Rich- 
mond, and  though  a  little  worn  with  the  fatigues  incident  to  an 
electioneering  campaign,  he  is,  I  believe,  as  sound  as  a  dollar." 

"  In  whose  election  did  he  take  so  deep  an  interest  ?"  inquired 
Grafton. 

"  Why !  in  his  own,"  said  Stevenson.  "  Were  you  not  aware 
that  he  was  a  candidate  for  Congress  ?  In  a  most  exciting  can- 
vass, and  his  opponent  connected  with  one  of  the  most  influential 
families  of  the  county,  he  has  been  elected  by  a  most  triumphant 
majority." 

"  I  am  gratified,  as  well  as  surprised,  by  the  information  you 
give  me,"  said  Grafton.  <'Pray  tell  me  the  particulars  of  the 
contest." 

"  Your  brother  had  made  himself  widely  and  favorably  known 
by  a  tour  through  the  State  with  several  politicians,  during  which 
he  daily  addressed  the  people  in  defence  of  the  votes  of  one  of 


144  woman's   faith. 

our  senators,  upon  some  question  of  policy.  He  brought  to  the 
discussion,  such  a  fund  of  political  knowledge,  such  versatility  of 
talent,  such  unanswerable  arguments,  that  all  were  taken  by  sur- 
prise by  this  new  actor  upon  the  political  stage." 

"  What  is  the  manner  of  my  brother  ?"  said  Grafton.  f 

"His  elocution  is  manly,  yet  fervid,  his  arguments,  so  clear, 
«ogent  and  convincing,  his  illustrations  all  natural  and  beautiful, 
his  allusions  so  classical  and  elegant,  that  his  audience  are  carried 
away  by  the  charms  of  his  surpassing  eloquence,  in  the  very  outset 
of  his  speech.  He  then  delights  them  with  wit,  burnished  and 
sparkling,  now  employing  that  irony,  which  covers  his  opponent 
with  ridicule,  or  unsheathing  the  flashing  blade  of  sarcasm,  lays 
bare  the  sophistical,  and  ill  considered  positions  of  his  adversary. 
He  is  ever  perfect  master  of  his  subject.  His  eye  flashes  with  the 
eagle's  fire,  as  he  turns  his  bold  triumphant  look  upon  the  assailant 
of  the  cause  he  has  espoused." 

"  I  suspect,"  said  Grafton,  "  the  partiality  of  friendship  colors 
with  a  somewhat  rosy  hue,  your  description  of  my  brother's 
oratory." 

"  No,"  said  Stevenson,  "  this  is  now  the  general  sentiment,  and 
some  of  the  opponents  of  the  old  senator  quaintly  remark,  that 
the  election  of  young  Grafton  was  the  great  desire  of  the  former, 
that  he  might  find  some  one,  who  could,  with  a  show  of  suc- 
cess, defend  a  course  at  war  with  the  opinion  of  nine  tenths  of 
the  people.  When  your  brother  was  first  nominated,  his  opponent 
laughed  at  such  a  contest.  A  man  unknown,  without  family  or 
wealth,  to  think  of  contending  for  the  seat,  which  he  had  occupied 
for  years,  was  simply  ridiculous.  But  no  man,  he  found,  could 
•withstand  the  power,  which  the  burning  eloquence,  the  fascinating 
manners,  and  the  wonderful  mental  acquisitions,  gave  to  Charles 
Grafton,  and  he  has  submitted,  with  as  much  grace  as  possible,  to 
a  most  disastrous  defeat" 

The  conversation  now  turned  to  various  topics,  and  with  a  power, 


A     TALE     OF     SOUTHEEIf     LIFE.  l45 

which  Stevenson  little  suspected,  Grafton  took  into  his  own  hands, 
the  direction  of  the  thoughts,  and  even  wishes  of  his  guest. 

Grafton  invited  Stevenson  to  ride  with  him  over  the  island.  Ste- 
venson was  surprised  with  the  extent  of  its  fertility,  and  admired,  as 
all  must,  the  natural  beauties,  clustering  about  it.  He  was  sur- 
prised by  the  perfect  clock-work  method,  in  the  labor  of  the  slaves, 
without  any  overseer,  and  all  working  with  the  apparent  harmony 
and  precision  of  a  well-regulated  machine. 

He  explained  to  him,  all  the  minutiae  of  the  culture  of  the  cane, 
the  making  of  sugar,  the  expenditures  of  the  plantation,  and  the 
profits  derived  upon  the  general  outlay  of  capital  and  labor. 

*'Tt  is,"  said  Stevenson, "  a  most  profitable  investment,  and  though, 
now,  it  is  the  warmest  of  summer  weather,  the  constant  breeze 
from  the  gulf,  renders  the  air  perfectly  delightful.  I  have  never 
enjoyed  such  dreamy  happiness,  as  when  yesterday  after  dinner 
you  invited  me  to  take  a  siesta  in  ihe  hammock,  swinging  in  the 
wide  and  cool  veranda  of  your  tasteful  cottage.  You  have  the 
finest  sea-food  I  have  found  anywhere,  while  the  wild  game  so 
abundant,  furnishes  you  with  every  luxury.  I  know  not  when  I 
have  seen  a  place  combining  so  many  advantages." 

"  And  yet  I  am  tired  of  it,"  said  Grafton,  "  although  I  am  aware 
it  possesses  attractions,  which  can  scarcely  be  found  anywhere  in 
the  country.  I  lead  an  isolated  life,  and  feel  that  I  am  acquiring 
the  habits  and  disposition  of  a  recluse." 

"  Well,"  said  Stevenson,  "  I  wish  I  could  find  such  a  property, 
seeking  a  purchaser.  If  you  ever  sell,  promise  me,  Grafton,  that 
I  shall  have  the  first  ofter." 

"  Oh!  as  for  that,  I  feel  that  I  am  working  for  Charles.  The  great 
expenses  connected  with  the  life  of  a  politician,  particularly,  if  he 
intends,  as  he  writes,  trying  his  luck  in  the  lottery  of  matrimony, 
will  require  the  income  of  some  profitable  investment,  and,  well 
managed,  none  will  give  so  good  a  return  as  ours,  at  C6te  Blanche." 
"  Ah !  it  is  as  I  suspected,"  said  Stevenson.    "  Cupid  success- 

T 


146  woman's    faith. 

fully  laid  siege  to  a  citadel,  invulnerable  to  all  attack  but  his,  and 
he  has  fallen  beneath  the  potent  smiles  of  the  elegant  daughter  of 
our  senator.  I  shrewdly  suspect,  that  the  magic  beauty  of  the 
belle  of  Richmond  inspired  the  eloquence  of  your  gifted  brother. 
It  was  so  reported,  when  I  left  home,  but  from  some  rumors  afloat, 
on  his  first  return  from  Louisiana,  it  was  supposed  he  had  left  his 
heart  behind  him." 

"  Oh,  no  !"  said  Grafton,  "  I  believe  while  here,  he  indulged  in 
some  flirtations ;  but  our  young  French  girls  are  like  our  humming- 
l)irds,  they  sip  honey  from  every  opening  blossom.  In  other  words, 
their  little  love  affairs  are  the  occupation  of  idle  hours,  while  their 
matrimonial  concerns  are  always  regulated  by  their  mammas  and 
papas,  and  ever  with  an  eye  to  the  main  chance." 

Grafton  was  highly  gratified  that  Stevenson  regarded  Charles 
as  engaged  in  Virginia.  He  would  turn  this  knowledge  to 
account. 

On  the  following  day,  he  rode  with  Stisvenson  over  the  parish, 
telling  him,  that  in  one  ride  he  could  form  his  opinions,  as  to  the 
people  and  the  country,  as  well  as  if  he  had  lived  in  the  neigh- 
borhood a  twelvemonth. 

He  introduced  him,  for  his  own  purposes,  to  Miss  Eloise 
Florian,  remarking  that  he  was  but  recently  firom  Virginia,  and  a 
particular  friend  of  his  brother's. 

"  And  now.  Miss  Eloise,"  said  he,  "  Mr,  S.  can  fully  inform  you 
of  my  brother,  of  his  pursuits,  and  purposes." 

Just  as  he  expected,  with  apparent  unconcern,  she  drew  from 
him,  the  very  information,  which  Frank  would  have  desired. 
He  spoke  of  Charles  Grafton,  as  "  filling  a  large  space  in  the  public 
eye;  that  he  was  generally  regarded  as  the  most  rising  young 
man  in  the  State,  and  that  he  had  just  been  elected  to  Congress. 

He  said,  that  it  was  understood,  that  Mr.  Grafton  was  about  to 
lead  to  the  altar,  Miss  S.,  a  young  lady  of  surpassing  beauty 
and    accomplishments,  who,  he    doubted   not,    would    be    the 


A   TALE     OF     SOUTHERN     LIFE.  147 

reigning  belle  at  Washington,  during  the  coming  winter.  "  And 
yet,  I  am  surprised,"  said  Stevenson,  "  that  the  charm  of  a 
southern  residence,  and,  more  than  all,  the  fascinating  ladies  of 
Louisiana,  had  not  retained  one,  so  enthusiastic  as  Charles  Grafton, 
in  this  delightful  section  of  the  country." 

"  "We  thought  at  one  time,"  said  Eloise,  "  that  he  had  been 
bound  in  the  silken  meshes  of  love  ;  but  he  probably  found  the 
conquest  too  easy,  and  withdrew  before  his  own  heart  was 
touched,  whatever  might  have  been  the  result  to  another." 

"  The  wound  was  not  probably  deep,"  said  Stevenson ;  "  for 
rarely  will  you  find  the  victim  in  your  sex." 

With  impatient  eagerness,  did  Charles  Grafton  await  the 
arrival  of  a  reply  to  his  letter  to  Lefort. 

He  had  felt  some  misgivings  from  the  tone  of  the  letters  of  his 
brother ;  and  he  knew  generally,  from  education  and  habit,  that 
no  small  spice  of  fickleness  entered  into  the  composition  of  the 
character  of  the  natives  of  la  belle  France. 

Books  and  association  had  taught  him,  also,  that  the  heart  of 
the  daughter,  was  very  much  in  the  keeping  of  the  mother,  and 
that  the  stapte  qualities  possessed  a  large  preponderance  over  the 
mere  ornamental,  in  the  selection  of  the  husband. 

"  But  surely,"  said  Charles  to  himself,  "  such  are  not  the  cha- 
racteristics of  any  of  the  family  of  Lefort. 

''  So  great  has  been  the  transition  from  the  gay,  excited,  and 
busy  life  of  Paris,  to  the  calm,  unrufiled,  and  contented  existence, 
in  their  now  secluded  home,  that  dreams  of  ambition  have  all 
faded  from  his  remembrance.  And,  if  I  am  not  greatly  mistaken, 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Lefort  look  to  a  patriarchal  home,  their  children 
and  their  children's  children  filling  one  house  with  glee,  a  imited, 
loving,  and  happy  family,  as  the  realization  of  life's  brightest 
dream." 

This  agreeable  reverie  was  sadly  dissipated,  as  he  hastily  broke 
the  seal  of  the  following  letter. 


14:8  woman's    faith. 

But  before  its  perusal,  our  readers  will  call  to  mind  the  circum- 
stances, under  which  it  was  written. 

It  will  be  recollected,  that  the  letter  of  Charles  Grafton  to  Mr. 
Lefort  never  reached  its  destination  ;  that  it  was  handed,  by  Mr. 
Stevenson,  to  Frank  Grafton,  and  by  him  opened  and  read,  with 
the  determination  of  frustrating  any  plan  for  a  marriage  between 
Charles  and  Blanche. 

After  reading  the  letter  of  Charles,  he  sat  down  to  the  compo- 
sition of  a  reply ;  and  this  must  be  done  so  adroitly  that  no 
suspicion  would  be  aroused,  as  to  its  authorship. 

By  the  aid  of  certain  letters  of  invitation,  which  h^  had 
received  from  Lefort,  Grafton  found  no  difficulty  in  imitating  the 
chirograpliy  of  the  former. 

With  all  the  assiduity  and  patience  of  a  schoolboy,  did  Frank 
copy  these  notes,  until  he  could  imitate  them  with  the  most 
perfect  precision. 

In  the  assumed  hand  of  Lefort,  he  wrote  the  following  reply  to 
the  letter  of  Charles. 

Would  not  the  cruel,  hard  heart  of  even  Frank  Grafton  have 
softened,  had  he  known  the  utter  wretchedness  and  despair,  which 
these  few  lines  would  occasion  his  brother.  Carefully  worded  to 
shut  out  all  hope,  and  to  induce  the  belief  that  before  a  letter 
could  possibly  reach  Louisiana,  Blanche  would  be  another's ;  the 
scheme  was  sure  of  success. 

At  this  time,  a  month  was  considered  a  short  period  to  make  this 
then,  almost  interminable  journey,  so  that  he  felt  sure,  that  in 
passive  despair,  Charles  would  give  up  all  further  attempt  to 
obtain  the  hand  of  Blanche. 

How  his  expectations  succeeded,  will  be  seen  in  the  sequel : — 

Oak  Laws,  iSth  July,  IS— 
Chables  Grafton,  Esq., 

Dear  Sm — Your  favor  of  the  first  of  June  last,  has  just  reached 
me.    Allow  me  to  congratulate  you  upon  the  success,  which  is  crowninsr 


A     TALE     OF     SOUTHERN     LIFE.  149 

your  political  career.  So  long  a  time  bad  intervened  without  hearing 
from  you,  we  naturally  concluded,  that  acquaintances,  of  so  short  a  date 
as  ourselves,  had  passed  from  your  memory.  We  are  much  obliged  to 
you,  for  your  kiud  remembrances.  I  do  not  feel  at  liberty  to  advise  your 
return  to  Louisiana,  as  the  hand  of  my  daughter  is  partially  promised  to 
one,  who  from  his  position  and  wealth,  can  assure  her  happiness  in  life. 
Her  marriage  will  probably  take  place  before  this  reaches  you.  Permit 
me  to  express  the  hope,  that  prosperity  will  ever  smile  upon  your  path- 
way in  life. 
With  the  regards  of  my  family,  allow  me  to  subscribe  myself, 

Your  obedient  servant, 

F.  Lefort. 

The  feelings'  of  Charles  may  be  more  easily  imagined  than 
described,  as  his  eye  rested  upon  the  last  lines  of  the  little  missive, 
which  he  seemed  to  be  unconsciously  holding  before  his 
eyes. 

"Marriage — Blanche — and  is  this  the  termination  of  those 
bright  dreams,  which  have  been  gilding  all  my  future,  with  rays 
of  serenest  light  ?  Am  I  not  to  bask  in  the  sunshine  of  her  sweet 
smile  ?  Is  this  the  reward  for  days  and  nights  of  most  wearisome 
toil,  that  I  might  win  a  name,  worthy  of  her  wearing?  Oh, 
Blanche !  how  have  you  struck  dead  the  warmest,  noblest  im- 
pulses of  my  heart !  To  what  a  tomb  have  you  consigned  those 
living,  glowing  aflfections,  which  were  to  have  made  up  the  happi- 
ness of  my  existence !  With  what  devotion  and  truth  did  I  linger 
about  those  bright  memorials,  which  your  loveliness  had  traced 
upon  my  heart !  and  they  can  never  fade !  They  will  never  know 
inconstancy,  or  change.    Ah,  no, 

'  I  would  not  change  my  buried  love, 
For  any  heart  of  living  mould.' 

And  now  a  long  farewell  to  visions  of  bliss,  since  the  stem  reali 
ties  of  life  have  revealed  their  emptiness.    From  severe  studies 


1^  woman's  faith. 

and  occupations,  I  may  look  back  upon  these  mournful  memories, 
with  chastened  views,  never  again  to  trust  my  bark  upon  the 
tempestuous  waters  of  an  unknown  treacherous  sea." 

Such  were  the  sad  reflections  of  Charles  Grafton,  that  would 
find  expression,  even  in  the  solitariness  of  his  chamber.  He 
would  be  alone.    To  no  ear  would  he  utter  the  voices  of  his  soul. 

A  new  era  had  commenced  in  his  life.  With  renewed  energy 
he  entered  upon  his  favorite  pursuits,  as  if  he  would  drown  all 
recollections  of  events  so  fraught  with  bitterness.  All  the  great 
political  questions,  which  agitated  the  public  mind,  and  which 
were  likely  to  come  before  Congress,  he  examined  with  the 
minutest  care.  The  deep  and  difficult  questions  growing  out  of 
finance,  of  political  economy,  the  checks  and  balances  provided 
by  the  Constitution,  the  forms  of  the  Federal  and  State  Govern- 
ments, were  his  constant  study.  Never,  as  now,  did  he  attend 
to  the  embellishments  of  style,  the  graces  of  oratory,  while 
his  maimers  and  conversation  even,  became  a  subject  of  the 
most  minute  and  careful  attention.  He  devoted  himself  to 
the  acquisition  of  modern  languages,  and  became  perfect  master 
of  them. 

The  French  was  a  particular  study,  and  he  conversed  in  it  with 
the  elegance  and  fluency  of  a  Parisian. 

He  reviewed  his  readings  upon  the  history  of  France,  examin- 
ing, with  great  attention,  the  institutions,  the  interior  polity  of 
that  wonderful  people,  and  followed,  with  enthusiasm,  the  rapid 
and  victorious  marches  of  the  greatest  of  earth's  captains. 

He  sat  down  with  him  in  his  consultation  with  the  most 
learned,  and  the  wisest  of  his  subjects,  when  framing  that  wonder- 
ful code,  which  the  far-seeing,  eagle-eye  of  Napoleon  perceived 
would  remain  his  truest  monument 

"Yes,"  said  Grafton,  "when  the  most  brilliant  conquest  has 
faded  from  human  recollection,  and  Marengo,  and  the  Bridge  of 
Lodi,  be  remembered  only  as  a  melancholy  computation  of  how 


A    TALE    OF     80UTHEKN     LIFE.  161 

much  of  suffering  and  woe  might  be  required  to  sate  the  mad 
ambition  of  a  military  chieftain,  this  colossal  statue,  built  up  by 
learning  and  talent,  would  survive  the  ruin  of  empires,  and  upon 
its  noble  front  would  be  written,  in  imperishable  characters,  the 
name  of 

r 
NAPOLEON, 


%(^$  woman's   faith, 


CHAPTER   XXIX. 

The  bitter  and  severe  disappointment,  which  had  fallen  upon 
the  hopes  of  Blanche,  to  the  eye  of  the  casual  observer  would 
never  have  been  noticeable.  Those  who  saw  her  in  the  nearer 
intimacies  of  relationship,  could  only  have  discovered  it  in  the 
half  suppressed  sigh,  which  would,  in  spite  of  herself,  escape 
from  the  depths  of  a  heart,  which  had  been  pierced  with  unutter- 
able anguish.  Her  manner  had  so  gradually  changed  upon  the 
departure  of  Charles  Grafton,  that  to  those,  who  saw  her  from  day 
to  day,  nothing  strange  or  peculiar  was  perceptible.  But  how 
striking  would  have  been  the  contrast  to  him,  who  had  seen  her 
years  ago  on  a  return  from  a  ride  with  Charles,  her  face  lighted 
up  with  that  joyous  expression,  full  of  hope,  and  secure  in  the 
possession  of  a  love,  which  had  been  tendered  her,  and  the  Blanche 
of  to-day,  whose  reflections  were  picturing  a  future,  in  which  she 
felt  herself  doomed  to  linger  out  a  miserable  existence. 

Niobe  was  all  tears,  but  the  tearless  eye  of  Blanche  might  have 
revealed  a  sorrow,  such  as  that  imaged  on  the  seared  vision  of 
despair.  But  the  native  pride  of  her  character  came  to  her  aid, 
rescuing  her  from  the  fate  of  those,  around  whose  hearts  the 
serpent  coil  of  disappointed  afiection  has  been  fastened  with  a  fatal 
tenacity. 

"  I  will  arouse  myself,"  said  she  to  herself,  "  and  no  longer  yield 
to  the  influence  of  a  sentiment,  which  I  may  not  indulge.  Surely 
there  are  other  avenues  to  happiness,  as  yet,  by  me  untried.  A 
life  of  usefiilness,  consecrated  to  the  good  of  others,  seeking  the 


A    TALE    OF    80UTHEEN     LIFE.  163 

alleviation  of  those  sorrows,  which  lie  in  the  pathway  of  the  poor 
and  forsaken,  such  an  existence  will  be  crowned  with  a  peace, 
unruffled  by  the  wilder  passions  of  our  nature." 

Blanche  could  not,  like  the  Catholic  maiden,  seek,  in  the  secret 
recesses  of  the  cloister,  forgetfulness  of  the  object  of  her  love 
nor,  in  the  gloomy  chambers  of  the  recluse,  dream  away  an  exist- 
ence which  should,  be  devoted  to  active  usefulness.  Neither  could 
her  mind,  strengthened  and  enlarged  by  a  Protestant  education,  be 
hushed  to  a  sort  of  mesmeric  sleep,  by  the  counting  of  beads,  or 
unmeaning  genuflections  before  the  shrine  of  the  Virgin.  Life 
appeared,  to  her  excited  and  cultivated  intellect,  a  great  stage,  upon 
which  she  was  to  play  her  part  in  the  drama,  without  regard  to 
narrrow,  sectarian  and  bigoted  views.  Wherever  tHe  tear  of^ 
sorrow  could  be  wiped  away,  the  anguished  heart  be  relieved ; 
wherever  the  down-trodden  could  be  raised  up,  or  the  darkened 
mind  be  brightened  by  the  rays  of  knowledge,  there,  uninfluenced 
by  creeds  or  sectarianism,  her  truly  Catholic  spirit  saw  the  path 
of  duty,  clear  and  distinct,  as  if  the  pillar  of  the  cloud  was  lead- 
ing her. 

Never  were  her  attentions  as  beautifully  exhibited  as  now  to  her 
father  and  mother.  The  health  of  her  mother,  always  delicate, 
yearly  appeared  more  frail  under  the  exhausting  influence  of  a 
tropical  climate.  But  the  elasticity  of  spirit  so  natural  to  her,  and 
her  great  desire  for  the  promotion  of  the  happiness  of  her  family, 
had  caused  her  to  conceal,  even  from  the  eye  of  afiection,  the 
lassitude  which  constantly  afflicted  her.  Blanche  frequently  urged 
upon  her  mother  to  journey  north,  assuring  her  that,  in  its  bracing 
atmosphere,  her  constitution  would  be  built  up  with  new  vigor. 

"  No,  dear  Blanche,  if  I  go  to  New  York,  it  must  be  by  a  sea 
voyage,  and  I  really  think  I  could  not  bear  the  sea-sickness,  which 
for  three  or  four  weeks  I  must  endure." 

"Is  there  no  other  way  of  reaching  the  North?"  inquired  Blanche. 

"  Scarcely  any  practicable  route,"  replied  Mrs.  Lefort    "  Your 
1* 


154  woman'sfaith. 

father  has  given  -me  such  horrid  accounts  of  a  journey  by  stage 
that  I  suspect  the  most  vigorous  health  would  scarcely  undergo  the 
fatigue." 

"  It  seems  hard,"  said  Blanche,  "  to  be  imprisoned  within  such 
narrow  precincts,  I  wish  father  had  pitched  his  tent  in  Carolina. 
There,  within  a  day's  ride  of  the  sea-coast,  he  would  have  enjoyed 
the  free  mountain  air,  and  have  escaped  the  enervating  effect  of 
our  long  summers." 

"  Do  not  be  troubled  about  me,  dear  Blanche,  I  have  thus  far 
been  preserved  by  a  kind,  though  invisible  hand,  and  we  should 
not  distrust  His  goodness,  which  has  been  so  signally  manifested  in 
our  protection.  Whatever  may  be  our  lot,  rest  assured  that  the 
^  disposing  ""thereof  is  by  that  Providence,  whose  wisdom  and  love 
is  infinite." 


A    TALS     OF     BOUTHBBN     LIFB.  155 


CHAPTER     XXX.  • 

BcT  all  the  strength  of  character  of  Blanche,  was  now  put  to 
the  severest  test,  by  the  breaking  out  of  an  epidemic,  which 
seemed  to  threaten  the  destruction  of  all  of  every  age,  rank,  and 
sex.  Consternation  was  pictured  upon  every  visage,  and  nowhere 
was  the  terror  so  marked  and  frightful,  as  in  the  appealing  faces 
of  the  horror-stricken  slaves.  And  yet,  safety  and  Ufe  depended 
upon  self-possession,  and  a  calm  and  hopeful  disposition. 

In  that  neighborhood,  as  yet  unvisited  by  any  sickness,  which 
had  ever  been  resorted  to  for  the  salubrity  of  its  climate,  it  was 
not  surprising  that  fear  should  blanch  the  countenance  of  those, 
who,  for  the  first  time,  saw  the  effect  of  the  pestilence,  "  which 
walketh  in  darkness,  and  the  destruction  which  wasteth  at  noon- 
day." Here,  Blanche  was  truly  a  ministering  angel.  She  visited, 
'A  ithout  fear  or  hesitation,  the  homes  of  want  and  suffering,  fur- 
nishing the  necessary  medicine  ;  and,  more  than  all,  imparting  by 
her  sweet  smile  and  words  of  encouragement,  relief  against  the 
attack  of  the  dread  destroyer. 

Never  was  a  more  beautiful  exhibition  of  the  effect  of  true 
religion,  and  genuine  philanthropy  witnessed,  than  was  to  be  seen 
in  some  of  the  cabins  of  the  slaves.  A  complete  panic  had 
driven  from  their  homes,  their  owners,  and  their  natural  pro- 
tectors, and  they  were  left  to  battle,  as  they  best  could,  with  this 
terrible  pestilence.  Here  now  again,  was  seen  the  calm  and 
placid  face  of  that  devoted  missionary,  who,  a  few  years  ago,  was 
r««"*,ued  from  impending  death,  through  the  instrumentality  of 


156  woman's    faith. 

William  Burns.  Here,  by  the  couch  of  the  sick  and  the  sorrow- 
ing, were  found,  side  by  side,  Paul  Eaton  and  Blanche  Lefort 

Fear  had  unfitted  those,  who  as  yet  had  escaped,  from  nursing 
the  sick ;  -but  when  they  saw  those  angels  of  mercy  in  their 
infected  cabins,  and  listened  to  their  words  of  comfort  and 
courage,  apprehensions  were  at  once  dispelled,  and  the  chief 
danger  and  difficulty  was  removed.  At  all  hours,  by  day  and  by 
night,  through  storm  and  sunshine,  these  devoted  friends  of  the 
afflicted  were  unwearied  in  their  efforts.  But  when  the  icy  finger 
of  death  had  touched  its  victim,  and  all  would  have  fled  in  terror 
from  the  swollen  and  stifiened  corse,  the  presence  of  Paul  Eaton 
and  Blanche  seemed  to  possess  a  talismanic  charm,  in  rallying  the 
courage,  and  securing  the  services,  requisite  for  the  performance 
of  the  last  offices  for  the  dead. 

"  How  is  it,  Miss  Lefort,"  said  Paul  Eaton,  "  that,  when  most  of 
the  daughters  of  fashion  are  appalled  at  these  terrible  exhibitions 
of  sickness  and  death,  and  fly  from  them  upon  the  wings  of  fear, 
that  you  are  found  in  the  loathsome  cabin,  and  at  the  bedside  of 
death  ?" 

"  I  have  learned,  Mr.  Eaton,"  replied  Blanche,  "  that  nowhere 
is  happiness  or  safety  so  surely  found,  as  in  the  faithful  discharge 
of  duty.  Sorrow  and  disappointment  visit,  not  only  the  lowly 
and  the  humble,  but  the  homes  of  those,  where  every  comfort  and 
luxury  are  enjoyed  in  the  greatest  profusion." 

"  Is  luxury  a  source  of  enjoyment,  Miss  Lefort  1" 

"  Yes,  sir ;  the  luxury  of  doing  good.  But  this,  I  know,  is  a 
play  upon  the  word,  and  no  answer  to  your  question.  The  world 
generally  supposes,  that  upon  velvet  carpets,  and  beneath  the 
silken  drapery,  where  wealth  reposes,  hours  glide  noiselessly 
along,  freighted  with  purest  delights.  I  intended  merely  to  say 
that  behind  these  gorgeous  trappings,  anguish,  in  its  most  hideous 
form,  was  ofttimes  a  visitant." 

*'  True,  indeed,  Miss  Lefort,  is  it  that  obedience  to  the  high 


A   TALE     OF     SOUTHERN     LIFE.  167 

behests  enjoined  by  our  Great  Exemplar,  alone  assures  solid  and 
permanent  peace?  At  the  couch  of  the  sick  and  the  dying ;  at 
the  grave,  where  broken  hearts  were  bending  in  almost  speechless 
agony,  there.  His  calm,  majestic  form  was  seen,  and  His  sweet 
voice,  with  healing  on  its  wings,  was  heard  by  the  afflicted  ;  or, 
reaching  the  silent  ear  of  death,  at  His  command,  rosy  health 
revisited  the  wasted  cheek,  and  a  new  life  animated  the  form 
which  was  wearing  the  habiliments  of  the  grave.  Never  before 
have  I  seen  the  ravages  of  pestilence.  Miss  Lefort,  and  but  for 
the  injunctions  of  my  Master,  I  should,  as  others  did,  I  fear,  have 
fled  from  the  awful  scene." 

"  What  could  we  have  done  without  you,  Mr.  Eaton  ?  This 
neighborhood,  even  now,  would  have  been  a  Golgotha,  for  fear 
and  apprehension  so  aggravated  disease,  that  all  remedies  were 
fruitless.  Thankful  am  I,  that  the  worst  is  now  passed,  that  the 
march  of  the  dread  destroyer  is  stayed." 

Notwithstanding  the  skill  and  devotion  of  physicians  and 
friends,  scarcely  a  house  but  had  been  visited  by  this  fell  disease, 
clothing  each  family  with  the  drapery  of  woe. 


158  A     TALE     OF     SOUTHERN     LIFB, 


CHAPTER    XXXI. 

The  apprehensions  of  the  family  of  Mr.  Lefort  were  intensely 
excited  by  the  unwearied  and  constant  exertions  of  Blanche, 
wherever  this  appalling  disease  was  manifesting  itself.  So  viru- 
lent had  it  become,  that  contact  with  it  was  regarded  as  fatal. 
The  strongest  ties  of  relationship,  or  of  pecuniary  interest  were 
disregarded  from  the  terrible  apprehensions  of  those,  who  might 
feel  themselves  to  be  within  the  sphere  of  its  influence.  Swift 
destruction  marked  the  footsteps  of  the  invisit)le  enemy,  and  all 
sought  safety  in  flight,  when  he  approached  their  habitations. 
The  old,  experienced,  and  skillful  physician,  and  the  professional 
nurse,  who  considered  themselves  proof  against'  attack,  were 
falling  by  the  side  of  those  who  had  called  in  their  assistance. 
They  whom  the  morning  had  awakened  to  all  the  enjoyments  of 
high  health,  ere  evening's  close,  slept  the  sleep  of  death.  The 
stoutest  hearts  were  appalled  by  events  so  fraught  with  desolation 
and  woe.  Blanche  surveyed  the  whole  scene  before  her,  with  an 
unquailing  eye,  and  with  an  unshaken  faith  in  that  Providence, 
which  had  so  signally  protected  her  and  hers,  and  with  an 
unwavering  trust,  that  the  path  of  duty  would  prove  to  be  the 
path  of  safety,  resolved  to  give  her  whole  time  and  strength  to 
those  who  were  in  want  and  suffering. 

"  Oh,  Blanche,"  said  her  father,  "  I  cannot  express  how  great 
are  our  anxieties  and  fears  for  your  safety,  mingling,  as  you  do, 
by  day  and  by  night,  with  those  who  are  falling  victims  to  this 
dreadful  pestilence.    Have  you  not  duties  towards  your  own 


woman's  faith.  169 

family,  which  would  forbid  such  exposures,  as  you  hourly  en- 
counter ?" 

"  We  are  all,  father,  safe  and  well.  No  one  of  our  family  has 
been  attacked,  and  our  house  has  been  guarded,  as  if  by  an  angel 
hand,  pointing  to  a  sign  upon  the  lintel,  and  the  foot  of  the 
destroyer  was  not  permitted  to  enter  our  habitation.  Are  we  not, 
then,  called  upon  to  acknowledge  this  guardian  care,  and  to  show 
our  trust  and  faith,  by  exhibitions  of  fearless  conduct,  wherever 
and  whenever  the  voice  of  duty  or  humanity  may  call  us  ?" 

"  But  the  sphere  of  woman,  dear  Blanche,  is  a  limited  one. 
Her  education,  her  habits,  the  customs,  and  rules  of  society 
unfit  her  for  those  positions,  which  require  a  masculine  strength 
and  courage." 

"  And  yet,  father,  you  will  admit  that  none  are  so  well  fitted  as 
woman  to  render  those  kind,  gentle  attentions,  so  soothing  to 
those,  whose  strength  has  been  prostrated  by  disease,  and  whose 
courage  has  fled  before  a  malady  that  seems  to  baffle  all  skill  and 
effort.  And  how  great  is  her  reward.  I  had  rather  know,  when 
the  warm  pulsations  of  my  heart  have  ceased,  that  the  poor  and 
the  disconsolate  would  stand  around  my  bed,  and  with  flowing  eyes, 
speak  of  kindness  shown,  and  privations  endured,  '  shewing  the 
coats  and  garments  which  Dorcas  made,'  than  to  live  upon  the 
page  of  the  poet  or  the  novelist  as  the  most  attractive  woman  of 
the  age." 

"  I  feel  the  force  of  your  remarks,  dear  Blanche,  but  though 
they  may  aftect  my  head,  my  heart  remains  unaffected.  I  still 
think  you  should  leave  to  others  the  offices  you  have  assumed." 

"  I  have  ever,  father,"  replied  Blanche,  "  taken  a  different  view 
of  the  duties  belonging  to  our  sex.  When  I  have  been  reading 
the  descriptions  of  those  terrible  wars,  which  have  bathed  the  fields 
with  gore,  and  the  faces  of  the  widow  and  orphans  with  scalding 
tears,  I  have  felt  an  instinctive  wish  to  have  been  present  to  cheer, 
and  aid  the  wounded,  and  the  suffering  warrior.     How  would  the 


160  A     TALE     OF     SOUTHERN     LIFE. 

horrors  of  the  battle-field  have  been  softened  down,  if  the  tender  and 
pitying  hand  of  woman  could  have  been  stretched  forth  to  lave  the 
parched  lips  of  the  smitten,  and  the  dying ;  or  her  ear,  so  inspiring 
with  confidence,  could  be  present  to  catch  the  last  sigh,  or  receive 
the  latest  wish  of  him  who  had  fallen,  defending  the  honor  or  the 
soil  of  his  country.  Surely  all  rules  of  society,  which  shouH  exclude 
from  such  scenes,  those  so  formed  by  nature  for  their  alleviation, 
must  be  based  in  error." 

"  But  society,  my  daughter,  has  adopted  these  rules  because  it 
has  seen  in  the  brutal  habits  and  dispositions  of  too  many  of  the 
sterner  sex,  a  danger  most  imminent,  where  your  vivid  imagination 
might  lead  you  to  suppose,  you  might  be  useful." 

"  I  cannot  believe  in  such  peril,"  replied  Blanche.  "  Her  mission 
Would  inspire  her  with  courage,  and  her  high  and  holy  purpose 
would  insure  for  her  the  respectfiil  and  decorous  treatment  of 
every  one.  Her  self-denying  and  noble  act  would  furnish  her  with 
a  panoply,  more  impervious  than  that  wrought  by  the  cunningest 
artificer.  Her  mild  eye  of  love  and  pity,  her  soothing  words,  her 
angel  acts  would  surround  her  with  an  army  of  friends,  '  whose 
swords  would  leap  from  their  scabbards,  to  avenge  even  a  look  that 
threatened  her  with  insult.'  And  more  than  all,  by  these  arbitrary 
rules  of  which  you  speak,  society  has  deprived  our  sex  of  a  school 
in  which  character  would  be  trained  and  formed,  hearts  disciplined, 
and  powers  fully  developed.  We  were  created  to  be  the  help- 
meets, not  the  playthings  of  man,  the  mere  ornaments  of  his  house 
and  home.  Have  you  not  seen,"  continued  she,  "  the  true-hearted, 
the  most  gifted  of  our  sex,  pining  beneath  some  bitter  disappoint- 
ment ?  dying,  because  she  had  naught  else  to  do,  but,  in  the  seclu- 
sion and  monotony  of  home,  to  feed  upon  the  sad  memories,  which 
were  consuming  her.  Aye,  while  her  heart  was  well-nigh  bursting 
turned  over  to  her  piano,  to  her  needle,  or  the  solitary  walk,  all  so 
well  adapted  to  enhance  the  sorrow,  which  was  wasting  her,  when, 
in  action,  engaged  in  some  work  that  would  task  all  the  energies 


woman's    faith.  161 

of  her  mind  and  body,  she  would  have  regained  her  cheerfulness 
and  forgotten  her  griefs." 

"  Are  not  these,"  said  her  father,  "  pictures  of  a  glowing  fancy  ? 
And  where  do  you  find  examples  of  such  maidenly  efforts  ?" 

"  I  know,"  rejoined  Blanche,  "  that  but  few  of  our  sex  have  won 
for  themselves  the  golden  opinions  of  the  world  by  acts  of  dis- 
interested and  self-denying  benevolence,  but  there  are  some,  who 
although  their  names  are  not  blazoned  upon  this  world's  scroll  of 
fame,  will  find  that  they  are  '  written  in  the  book  of  life '  for  the 
unseen  and  blessed  charities,  which  from  their  hands  have  fallen 
like  the  dew,  upon  the  poor  and  deserted  children  of  humanity. 
How  often  by  the  bedside  of  wretched  want,  and  pining  poverty, 
are  seen  those  Sisters  of  Charity  providing  for  the  necessities,  even 
to  the  most  menial  oflfices,  or  soothing  the  last  hours,  of  the  sick 
and  the  dying,  when  others  of  our  sex,  blessed  with  the  most 
ample  means  by  the  Father  of  us  all,  look  with  stolid  indifference 
and  unconcern  upon  the  saddest  picture  presented  by  the  wretch- 
edness of  our  fallen  race.  The  world  look  upon  them,  I  know,  as  a 
part  of  a  great  enginery,  prepared  by  the  Roman  Catholic  church, 
but  such  acts  could  spring  from  no  sectarian  feeling,  and  no  more 
belong  to  that  church,  than  does  the  magnificent  old  Gothic 
architecture,  the  living,  breathing  pictures  of  the  Madonna,  and 
the  crucifixion,  or  the  '  ora  pro  nohis^  whose  rich,  mellow,  solemn 
tones  are  so  deeply  entrancing." 

The  arguments  of  Blanche  were  so  unanswerable,  and  the  effect 
upon  her  mind  so  soothing  that  both  her  father  and  mother  deem- 
ed it  wisest  not  to  interfere  in  her  favorite  pursuits.  They  rejoic- 
ed to  see  once  more  upon  her  face  the  old  smile  of  happiness,  as 
she  related  some  touching  story,  and  hoped  that  a  new  direction 
would  be  given  to  the  current  of  her  thoughts,  dissipating,  as  does 
the  sun  the  mists  upon  the  mountain  top,  the  clouds  which  had, 
for  so  long  a  time,  rested  upon  her  spirits. 


162  woman's    faits. 


CHAPTER    XXXII. 

Congress  had  now  convened,  and  Charles  Grafton,  for  the  first 
time,  took  his  place  in  that  body,  where  wisdom  and  eloquence, 
hardly  surpassed  in  any  deliberative  assembly,  presided.  Recog- 
nizing in  his  seat,  his  fonner  friend  William  Bums,  and  the  hus- 
band of  the  sister  of  her,  whom  he  had.  loved  with  an  intensity  so 
strong,  he  approached  him  with  an  ease  and  dignity,  and  addressed 
him  with  a  cordiality  most  winning  in  its  manner.  He  inquired 
particularly  for  Mrs.  Bums,  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Lefort,  but  made  not 
the  most  distant  allusion  to  Blanche.  Burns  could  with  diflSculty 
lay  aside  the  hauteur  he  had  at  first  assumed,  and  the  determinar 
tion  to  treat  with  marked  coolness,  one,  whom  he  thought  had 
trifled  with  the  affections  of  a  person,  so  dear  to  himself  as 
Blanche. 

"  How  unaccountable,"  said  he  to  himself,  "  is  the  manner  of 
Grafton.  1  will  find  the  key  to  conduct  so  dark  and  so  mysterious. 
How  strange  that  he  never  spoke  of  Blanche."  Perhaps  his  con- 
science tells  him,  that  he  has  treated  her  in  a  manner,  unmanly 
and  ungenerous,  and  his  pride  would  conceal  from  me  his  feelings. 
This  session  shall  not  close  before  I  have  the  clue  to  behavior  so 
singular,  so  unnatural." 

Many  and  varied  were  the  important  questions  discussed,  and 
the  expectant  friends  of  Charles  Grafton  were  impatient  to  witness 
an  exhibition  of  the  powers  of  their  favorite  orator,  upon  this  new 
stage.  But  with  great  wisdom,  he  remained  a  silent  spectator  and 
hearer,  where  all  was  new  to  him,  and  with  great  sagacity  he 


A     TALE     OF     80UTHEBN    LIFE.  163 

decided,  that  better  to  keep  alive  the  strong  expectation  and  desire 
of  those,  who  had  been  told  of  his  great  abilities  as  an  orator, 
than  to  fritter  away  all  interest  by  speaking  upon  any  and  all 
occasions.  He  himself,  was  all  eagerness  to  witness  some  display  of 
the  powers  of  Burns  as  a  political  speaker. 

Without  any  feeling  of  envy,  or  actuated  by  any  mean  rivalry, 
he  indulged  the  desire  of  a  fair  and  friendly  encounter  with  the 
young  member  from  Lousiana,  upon  this  great  arena  of  public 
debate.  An  opportunity  was  soon  offered  for  the  gratification  of 
his  wish  to  hear  Burns,  in  an  impromptu  speech,  in  reply  to  some 
flippant  attack  upon  Louisiana. 

The  reply  of  Bums,  if  reply  it  could  be  termed,  for  he  scarcely 
noticed  the  assailant  of  the  State  he  represented,  was  calm,  manly 
and  dignified.  His  sarcasm  ^as  withering;  and  when  he  turned 
away  with  a  look,  in  which  you  could  scarcely  tell  whether  pity 
or  contempt  predominated  in  his  mind,  in  a  rapid  manner,  he 
gave  a  picture  of  the  resources  of  his  State,  of  the  patriotism  of 
his  constituency,  of  the  proud  position,  she,  now  among  the 
youngest  of  the  sisters  of  this  great  confederacy,  had  assumed,  the 
house  was  electrified  by  the  able  and  eloquent  defence  of  the  State 
he  represented. 

Grafton  was  among  the  first  to  congratulate  him  upon  his  speech, 
and  his  whole  manner  was  too  warm  and  hearty  to  doubt  for  a 
moment  its  sincerity. 

In  the  first  glow  of  excitement.  Burns  received  in  the  same 
spirit,  as  they  were  tendered  by  Grafton,  his  civilities.  The  frost- 
work of  his  natural  manner  was  all  melted,  and  the  cordiality  of 
the  friendship  of  years  beamed  in  the  expression  of  his  handsome 
face. 

"  From  the  lips  of  no  one,  is  commendation  more  grateful  to  my 
feelings,"  said  Bums,  "  than  from  Mr.  Grafton." 

"  And  to  no  one  does  it  afford  more  tme  happiness  to  offer  the 
meed  of  praise,  when  so  worthily  bestowed,  than  to  myself,"  said 


164  woman's  faith. 

Grafton.  "  May  I  not  hope  to  avail  myself  of  the  experience  you 
have  already  acquired  in  this  hall,  and  of  the  respect  you  have  so 
deservedly  won,  when  I  shall  be  required  to  flesh  my  spear  with 
some  competitor." 

"  If  fame  speaks  truth,"  replied  Burns,  "  you  will  require  no 
adventitious  aid,  when  you  shall  aflbrd  us  the  happiness  of  listening 
to  your  voice  in  debate.  But  as  far  as  my  poor  experience  or 
ability  may  be  of  any  service  to  you,  I  need  scarcely  say,  that  it 
will  ever  be  at  your  command." 

The  session  was  now  wearing  away,  and  Grafton  had  as  yet  been 
a  silent  member.  Questions  growing  out  of  our  foreign  relations, 
raised  by  the  celebrated  Monroe  doctrine,  as  it  was  familiarly 
termed,  opened  a  wide  field  for  discussion,  ofiering  an  opportunity 
for  the  display  of  talent  and  inforjnation.  His  early  friend  and 
patron,  the  senator,  Mr.  S.,  whose  defence  he  had  previously 
assumed  with  so  much  vigor  and  ability,  as  our  readers  will  remem- 
ber, discussed  with  him,  at  his  rooms,  these  topics,  and  was  sur- 
prised by  the  breadth  of  the  views,  and  .maturity  of  the  opinions 
of  his  young  prot6g6. 

"  And  now,  Mr.  Grafton,"  said  Mr.  S.,  "  promise  me  that  you  will 
give  expression  to  those  sentiments,  in  a  speech  upon  the  resolu- 
tions now  before  the  House.  Believe  me,  you  friends  all  expect  it, 
your  constituents  would  be  chagrined  should  you  remain  longer 
silent,  and  you  would  lose  a  golden  opportunity  for  a  display  of 
those  abilities,  which  my  age  and  friendship  for  you,  will  permit 
me  to  speak  of,  without  subjecting  myself  to  the  imputation  of 
flattery." 


A     TALE     OF     SOUTHEKN     LIFE.  165 


CHAPTER    XXXIII. 

The  conversation  with  Mr.  S.  confirmed  Grafton  in  his  inten- 
tion of  speaking  to  the  resolution  alluded  to.  He  had  studied  it 
with  the  greatest  care,  and  some  of  the  topics,  naturally  connected 
with  it,  had  excited  in  his  mind  the  greatest  interest.  The  occa- 
sion for  an  effort  on  his  part  arose  sooner  than  he  expected,  for  in 
the  remarks  of  some  member,  the  resolution  had  been  tauntingly 
alluded  to,  as  the  embodiment  of  Virginia  metaphysics,  and  a 
speech  of  Senator  S.  had  been  criticised  with  great  severity,  as 
full  of  ingenious  subtleties,  and  as  a  fit  emanation  from  the  Vir- 
ginia school  of  politics. 

Grafton  arose  to  his  feet,  his  eye  kindling  as  with  a  living  fire, 
his  expressive  face  lighted  up  with  those  meteor  flashes  of  intelli- 
gence, and  scarcely  suppressed  emotion,  he  exclaimed,  "  Virginia 
metaphysics! — Virginia  poUtics!  In  what  school  of  politeness, 
Mr.  Speaker,  from  what  graceful  and  elegant  vocabulary,  has  the 
honorable  member,  who  has  just  taken  his  seat,  acquired  the 
manner  or  the  language,  which  he  has  brought  into  this  high 
debate  ?"  He  then  alluded  gracefully  to  his  native  State,  and, 
without  intending  the  slightest  disparagement  to  other  members 
of  this  great  confederacy,  he  would  take  leave  to  refer  to  him,  the 
author  of  that  wide  world  renowned  State  paper,  which  I  now 
have  in  my  eye,  the  Declaration  of  Independence :  to  him,  by 
whose  matchless  eloquence  the  enthusiasm  of  the  colonists  had 
been  kindled  into  a  blaze :  to  him,  who  had  borne  our  triumphant 
eagles  safely  along  the  red  path  of  war :  to  him,  who  had  done  so 


166  woman's    faith. 

much  in  building  up  this  magnificent  political  fabric,  beneath 
whose  ample  shade,  we  to-day  sit  here,  in  the  robes  of  ofiice. 
Leaving  these  topics,  he  stated  with  great  clearness  the  proposi- 
tions to  the  consideration  of  which,  he  would  bespeak  the  gene- 
rous ear  of  the  House. 

Be  dwelt  upon  the  colonization  of  these  States:  the  causes, 
which  compelled  our  fathei-s  to  bid  a  final  adieu  to  home  and 
countiy,  to  the  hearths  and  altars,  and  graves,  yet  wet  with  the 
tears  of  affection  and  love,  that  here,  on  this  side  of  the  Atlantic, 
they  might  plant  the  ensigns,  and  build  up  the  temple,  of  freedom. 
That  however,  in  other  lands,  despotisms  might  rear  their 
unsightly  heads,  and,  with  their  iron  heels,  crush  out  the  ^rst 
aspiration  of  liberty,  that  here,  on  this  western  continent,  freedom 
unfettered  as  the  winds,  that  float  through  our  forests,  pure  as 
those  streams,  wildly  gushing  from  the  mountain  side,  should  ever 
be  the  right  of  the  people. 

He  dwelt  upon  the  wonderful  military  genius  of  Bonaparte, 
which  enabled  him  to  batter  down  fortresses,  and  subjugate  cities, 
as  a  mere  pastime,  that  however  wide,  successful,  and  desolating 
might  be  his  march  upon  the  eastern  continent,  that  here  would 
the  waves  of  mad  ambition  be  stayed. 

He  remarked  that  no  unholy  alliance  of  power  and  despotism 
across  the  seas,  would  ever  be  permitted  to  interfere  with  forms 
of  government,  or  domestic  relations,  established  on  this  great 
continent,  which,  in  some  future  and  not  far  distant  day,  in  its 
widest  extent,  was  to  be  governed  by  the  descendants  of  those, 
who  first  landed  upon  the  rock-bound  coast  of  New  England,  or 
pitched  their  tents  beneath  those  noble  oaks,  which,  for  centuries, 
had  fringed  the  meadows  upon  the  banks  of  James  River.  He 
then  drew  a  picture  of  the  future  of  America,  as  by  the  practised 
hand  of  the  most  skillful  artist,  her  power,  her  resources,  her 
lettered  glory,  her  skill  in  arms,  her  more  glorious  conquests  in 
peace.    "Now,  sir,  we  may  read  her  annals,  but  then,  in  that  bril- 


A     TALE     OF     SOUTHERN     LIFE.  167 

liant  future,  in  that  day  of  her  just  renown,  then,  and  not  till 
then,  let  her  history  be  written !" 

It  is  impossible,  in  this  brief  epitome,  to  give  but  the  faintest 
idea  of  the  maiden  speech  of  Charles  Grafton.  The  enthusiasm,  and 
eloquence  of  his  manner,  the  wide  views,  which  he  presented  of 
the  subject,  the  skill  that  he  brought  to  bear  in  fortifying  his  posi- 
tions, and  the  bursts  of  eloquence,  with  which  he  occasionally 
electrified  the  House,  more  than  realized  the  expectations  of 
his  friends,  and  obtained  the  highest  commendations  of  his  whole 
auditory.  Through  the  crowd  of  friends  and  admirers.  Burns 
made  his  way  to  the  seat  of  Grafton,  and,  in  glowing  words,  con- 
gratulated him,  upon  the  high  success  he  had  won,  in  the  speech 
just  delivered.  He  assured  him,  that  he  had  at  once  taken  a 
high  place  among  the  ablest  and  most  eloquent  debaters  upon  the 
floor  of  the  House,  and  reminded  him,  that  it  would  require  no 
small  degree  of  industry  and  effort,  to  retain  a  position,  so  envi- 
able. 

"  Will  you  tell  my  friends,"  said  Grafton,  "  if  I  now  have  any  in 
Louisiana,"  and  in  spite  of  himself  his  eyes  were  quickly  suffused, 
"  that  I  have  done  no  discredit  to  a  friendship,  and  partiality, 
which  I  had  once  cherished  as  the  dearest  of  all  possessions." 

"  Nothing  will  afford  me  half  the  pleasure,  Mr.  Grafton,  of 
attempting,  at  least,  a  report  of  the  effect  of  your  speech,  for  before 
I  see  them,  all  my  friends  will  have  read  it  in  the  columns  of  the 
Intelligencer." 

He  was  about  to  speak  of  one,  who  would  treasure  in  her  heart 
cvei7  sentence  and  word,  but  pride  came  immediately  to  rescue 
the  remark,  and  playfully  added,  "  That  if  rumor  was  ever  to  be 
trusted,  among  his  acquaintances  in  Virginia,  one  heart,  at  least 
would  beat  with  quicker  and  warmer  pulsations,  after  this  day's 
effort." 

"I  have  many  warm  and  kind  friends,"  replied  Grafton,  "in  my 


168  woman's   faith. 

native  State ;  if  I  shall  have  pleased  them,  in  this  new  attempt  in 
public  life,  it  will  afford  me  great  gratification.  With  none  of 
the  affections  of  kindred,  or  the  regard  of  intimate  friends, 
I  have  few  of  the  incentives  of  ambition,  or  the  rewards  of 
success.'' 


A    TALE    OF     SOTJTHEEN     LIFE.  169 


CHAPTER    XXXIV. 

,  "  How  inexplicable  to  me,"  said  Burns  to  himself,  "  are  tlio 
workings  of  the  mind  and  heart  of  Charles  Grafton.  He  appears 
to  me,  to  be  full  of  the  strangest  contradiction.  A  few  years 
since,  when  1  first  became  acquainted  with  him  in' Louisiana,  I 
regarded  him,  as  a  generous,  noble  fellow.  He  seemed  to  be  per- 
fectly frank  and  open-hearted,  a  man  of  no  concealments,  elevated 
and  true  in  all  his  sentiments.  1  was  all  the  more  struck  with 
these  qualities  of  mind  and  manners,  inasmuch  as  they  were  so 
strikingly  in  contrast,  with  the  daik,  sinister  malignancy,  which 
manifested  itself  in  t!ie  very  look  and  tone  of  his  brother.  While 
I  felt  an  iastinctive  abhorrence  at  all  communion  with  the  one,  tow- 
ards the  other,  I  was  drawn  by  the  cords  of  an  almost  affectionate 
regard.  The  defect  in  the  character  of  Charles,  apparent,  when  I 
first  knew  him,  was  want  of  purpose,  a  lack  of  ambition  for  dis- 
tinction, in  some  walk  of  life.  His  existence  seemed  to  be  all 
frittered  away.  All  his  time  was  occupied  in  attentions  upon  his 
sister-in-law,  Mrs.  Helen  Grafton,  and  upon  Blanche,  and  then 
again  and  again,  I  said  to  myself,  what  a  pity,  that  a  man  with 
such  shining  qualities,  of  such  a  distinguished  air  and  bearing,  so 
well  fitted  to  make  his  mark  upon  the  age  in  which  he  lives^ 
should  suffer  the  seed-time  of  life  to  pass  oy,  without  a  thought, 
and  without  an  effort,  outside  of  th3  common  courtesies  of  every 
day  existence.  But  now  how  changed !  He  appears  the  very 
embodiment  of  an  active,  excited  intellect.  His  countenance  is 
radiant  with  thought.    You   may  read  there,  as  if  written  in 

8 


170  woman's     FAITH. 

legible  characters,  the  workings  of  a  mind  which  never  slumbers, 
and  behold  the  scintillations  of  that  undying  spark,  which  lights 
up,  with  heavenly  beauty,  our  mortal  frame-work.  And  with  ah 
this  devotion  to  books,  his  constant  unwearied  effort  to  inform 
liimself  upon  every  subject,  his  evident  great  regard  to  personal 
ippearance,  the  time  he  must  give  to  the  mere  manner  of  public 
speaking,  all  this  training  of  mind  and  person,  is  upon  some  prin- 
ciple beyond  my  ken.  He  says  he  is  not  actuated  by  ambition, 
that  he  has  no  particular  friends  and  no  relatives,  whose  appioba- 
t'on  or  gratification  would  induce  such  severe  and  wasting  efforts. 
I  shall  give  up  all  further  search  for  motive  ;  he  is,  to  me,  a  perfect 
enigma.  But  I  will  indulge  in  no  more  reflections  of  this  charac- 
ter. 

"  1  will  throw  them  into  my  letters  to  Louise,  and  see  if  the 
imagination  of  woman,  so  fertile,  so  skilled  in  all  the  mysterious 
workings  of  the  human  heart,  can  solve  this  riddle."  He  added  to 
tiiese  thoughts  in  his  letters  to  his  wife,  that  he  did  not  believe  in 
the  reports  that  Charles  was  engaged  to,  or  even  interested  in  any 
lady.  He  had  met  him  frequently  at  parties,  and  though  always 
brilliant  and  fascinating,  a  great  favoiite,  courted  and  caressed 
by  many  high-born  and  courtly  dames,  who  were  looking  out  for 
desirable  alliances  for  their  blooming,  blushing  daughters,  that  all 
.his  attentions  ended  with  the  evening  party. 

He  had  seen  him  with  the  daughter  of  Senator  S.,  an  elegant 
and  accomplished  young  lady,  and  the  acknowledged  belle  of  the 
season,  and  altliough  it  was  evident  that  the  father  hoped  that  the 
acquaintanceship  would  ripen  into  a  warmer  sentiment,  and  th« 
blushes  of  the  young  lady  discovered  her  preferences,  that  his 
devotions  were  only  such  as  are  ever  offered  by  gallantry,  at  the 
shrine  of  beauty.  How  different  his  manner,  his  look,  his  words, 
from  those  we  were  wont  to  see  in  our  dear  old  parlor,  when  his 
large,  expressive  eyes  seemed  to  be  interpreting  the  lovely  face  of 
our  dear  Blanche.     He  described  to  Louise  the  speech  of  Charles, 


A.     TALE     OF     80IJTHEKN     LIFE.  ITI 

"  But  I  will  not,"  said  he,  "  mar  its  beauty,  by  any  analysis  of  it,  as 
I  send  it  with  this  letter,  for  your  perusal. 

"  But  to  fully  enjoy  the  speech,  you  should  have  seen  him  when 
he  delivered  it.  His  graceful  and  dignified  manner,  the  elated, 
manly  look  as  he  rose  with  his  theme,  the  sarcasm  which  now 
curled  his  lip,  the  irony,  which  was,  at  times,  playing  in  his  eye,  and 
the  prophetic  vision,  which  seemed  to  possess  him,  as  he  spoke  of 
the  future  of  our  country,  produced  a  most  magical  efi'ect  upon 
a  crowded  audience.  When  he  rose  to  speak,  as  it  was  near  the 
hour,  I  was  about  to  move  the  House  to  adjourn,  to  give  him  the 
floor,  for  the  morrow,  an  expedient  often  resorted  to  by  the 
friends  of  a  speaker,  to  afford  him  time,  for  the  preparation  of  a 
reply. 

"  But  he  evidently  saw  my  intention,  and  with  one  of  those  sig- 
nificant smiles  of  recognition,  spoke  his  thanks,  with  the  manifest 
desire  of  going  on.  He  took  up  and  dwelt  upon  the  last  words  of 
the  speaker,  who  had  preceded  him.  He  fixed  upon  him  a 
look  of  ineffable,  withering  scorn,  as  if  about  to  launch  upon  him 
the  fiercest  of  Jove's  thunderbolts,  but  he  obviously  lost  sight  of 
him,  who  had  for  the  moment  excited  his  indignation,  as  he  was 
holding  up  before  his  delighted  hearers,  the  pictures  of  Washing- 
ton and  Jefferson,  of  Henry  and  of  Madison. 

"  In  vain  should  I  attempt  to  give  you  any  idea  of  the  effect  of 
this  speech,  and  I  shall  wait  till  I  see  you,  when  I  hope  to  be  able 
to  give  you  some  more  just  description  of  one  of  the  most  promis- 
ing young  men  of  our  country." 

Congress  had  now  adjourned,  and  members  were  scattering  for 
their  distant  homes. 

Grafton  has  just  left  the  room  of  Burns. 

How  anxiously  did  the  hearts  of  these  two  noble  young  men, 
attracted  to  each  other  by  similar  tastes  and  pursuits,  yearn  for 
the  expression  of  those  thoughts,  which  were  shut  up  by  prid« 
and  self-esteem. 


172  woman's    faith. 

The  one,  believing  that  the  feelings  of  the  sister  of  his  wife, 
endowed  A>ith  every  mental  and  personal  charm,  and  worthy  of 
all  love  and  admiration,  had  been  trifled  with  ;  the  other,  smart- 
ing under  a  disappointment  of  those  hopes,  which  he  thought 
Blanche  had  permitted  him  to  indulge ;  the  resentment  of  the 
one,  and  the  pride  of  the  other,  prevented  the  escape  of  a  word, 
■which  would  have  rolled  away  the  stone,  that  now  sepulchred  the 
brightest  hopes,  the  fond  anticipations  of  Blanche  Lefort  and 
Charles  Grafton. 

"  Rest  assured,"  said  Burns,  "  I  vshall  give  a  good  account  of 
you  to  your  brother ;  but  he  will  read  in  the  flattering  notices  of 
your  dibut  in  Congress,  enough  to  satisfy  the  pride  of  any  relative." 

"  My  brother,"  replied  Grafton,  "  says  all  tliese  puft's  are  manu- 
factured to  order ;  he  holds  them,  consequently,  in  no  high 
estimation.  I  have  sent  him  my  speech,  and  sure  I  am,  I  shall 
find  no  severer  critic." 

"  But  I  hope  you  will,  if  possible,  induce  Mr.  Lefort  to  look 
upon  my  eflFort  with  a  favorable  eye,  as  I  have  sometimes,  foolishly 
perhaps,  thought,  that  I  was  regarded  in  that  family,  as  a  good- 
natured  and  efficient  sort  of  nobody,  without  an  aim  or  object  in 
existence." 

"  You  greatly  mistake  Mr.  Lefort,  I  think,"  said  Bums.  "  I  am 
sure,  that  he  has  ever  held  you  in  the  highest  estimation.  He 
has  entertained,  with  all  of  us,  a  feeling  of  surprise,  at  your  long 
and  continued  absence  from  Louisiana,  and  at  your  silence  since 
you  left  our  part  of  the  country." 

"  What  ?"  exclaimed  Grafton — but  he  abruptly  broke  off  the 
sentence ;  for  he  suspected,  at  once,  that  the  delicacy  of  Mr. 
Lefort  had  concealed  from  Burns,  the  proposal  and  the  rejection, 
as  secrets,  which  he  was  not  at  liberty  to  disclose — he  merely 
remarked  that  "  he  was  a  poor  correspondent,  at  best,  and  when 
he  was  not  assured,  that  his  letters  might  be  desirable,  he  was 
unwilling  to  thrust  them  upon  the  notice  of  any  one." 


A    TALE    OF    SOUTHERN     LIFE.  173 

"  I  shall,  I  trust,  hear  from  you  during  our  vacation,"  said 
Burns.  "  Were  it  any  other  season,  than  that  of  summer,  I 
should  hope  to  see  you  during  the  term  which  will  intervene, 
between  this  and  the  meeting  of  our  next  Congress ;  but,  I  sup- 
pose, you  will  have  to  take  a  tour  among  your  constituents,  as 
Virginians  hold  their  public  servants  to  a  somewhat  strict  account 
of  their  stewardship.  And  now,  Grafton,  1  will  bid  you  farewell, 
with  the  hope  that  your  future  career  may  realize  all  the  promise, 
which  you  have  given  to  the  country  by  your  first  essay  in 
public  life." 

"  I  am  much  obliged  to  you.  Burns,  for  the  compliment.  To 
have  succeeded,  according  to  your  estimation,  is  no  small  praise ; 
but  my  future  has  little  to  cheer  and  brighten  my  heart.  Con- 
stant occupation,  my  library  and  pen,  afford  relief  from  saddest 
contemplations.  It  will  give  me  pleasure,  to  keep  up,  by  corres- 
pondence with  you,  an  intercourse  which  has,  I  assure  you,  been 
to  me,  a  source  of  high  pleasure." 


174  woman's   faith 


CHAPTER    XXXV. 

How  strange  are  the  workings  of  the  human  mind,  how  singu- 
lar the  operations  of  the  heart,  guided  and  controlled  hy  myste- 
rious power !  And  yet  upon  going  back,  and  examining  the  early 
influences,  which  gave  the  bias  and  direction  to  these  wonderful 
agencies,  we  perceive  that  the  indulgence  of  some  apparently  tri- 
fling propensity,  has  resulted  in  consequences  of  the  most  startling 
character. 

To  the  traveller,  who  had  seen  with  careless  indifierence  the 
melting  of  the  snow  flakes  upon  the  mountain  top,  under  the  fir»t 
rays  of  the  morning  sun,  and  heedlessly  rambled  along  its  wind- 
ing, devious  paths,  plucking  here  and  there  a  shrub  or  a  flower,  as 
they  opened  their  lips  to  a  midday  sun,  how  great  is  the  surprise 
and  horror,  as  he  stands  at  the  base  of  this  stupendous  summit,  at 
the  close  of  day,  and  hears  the  roar,  and  crash,  and  beholds  the 
awful  desolation  of  the  avalanche  ! 

To  him  who  has  now  become  hardened  in  crime,  who  has  per- 
petrated acts  of  cruelty,  at  the  bare  mention  of  which,  humanity 
shudders,  and  turns  pale  ;  guilt  once  wore  a  hideous  form,  and  he 
turned  with  loathing  and  horror  from  exhibitions  of  suffering  and 
distress.  But  the  taste  of  sin,  like  the  taste  of  blood  to  the  tiger, 
whets  the  appetite,  and  our  finite  nature  has  scarcely  sufficient 
capacity  to  satiate  the  cravings  of  indulged,  unchecked  depravity. 

Our  readers,  who  have  gone  along  with  us  in  th^  history  of  Frank 
Grafton,  have  seen  an  illustration  of  the  principle  which  we  have 
alluded  to.  ,  His  heart  is  now  festering  with  evil  passions,  remorse 


A    TALE     OF     SOUTUKKN     LIFE.  175 

drives  sleep  from  Lis  piilovv,  or  fills  his  chamber  with  pale  spectres, 
and  he  would,  if  possible,  hide  himself  from  the  thoughts  of  his 
own  dark  spirit.  He  hails  with  delight,  the  opportunity  which 
business  aftbrds  him,  of  leaving  again  his  dreary,  desolate  home. 
Little  did  he  dream  of  the  results  of  this  journey.  He  left  Cote 
Blanche  in  high  spirits,  determined  to  steep  in  utter  forget- 
fulness,  all  the  hateful  memories,  which  so  poisoned  his  existence. 

He  had  tried  the  maddening  bowl,  and  when  with  boon  compan- 
ions, he  sometimes  found  the  Lethean  draft,  tliat  would,  for  the 
time,  induce  oblivion  of  the  past.  "I  will  again  more  deeply 
mingle,"  said  he  to  himself,  "  with  those  throngs  of  pleasure-seek- 
ing fools,  and  in  their  wild  and  boisterous  revelries  find  that  excite- 
ment, which  will  drive  far  from  me  all  gloomy,  dark  forebodings.' 

Arriving  at  New  Orleans,  the  gay  city  seemed  to  wear  a  delight- 
ful aspect.  All  was  merriment  and  bustle.  A  few  hours  of  the 
morning  were  required  for  the  transaction  of  business:  the  hours  of 
evening  were  given  up  to  festivity. 

Sauntering  along  those  streets,  so  foreign  in  their  aspect,  and 
which  wear  an  air  of  gaiety  so  alluring,  a  freedom  from  all 
restraint  so  conspicuous,  Grafton  felt  that  elation  of  feeling,  pecu- 
liar to  New  Orleans.  "  Here,"  said  he  to  himself,  "  I  am  free  U 
indulge  the  wildest  propensity.  I  am  not  withheld  by  any  narrow 
bigoted,  and  sectarian  views,  but  all  are  permitted  to  seek  thei 
own  hai)piness,  in  the  way  that  their  judgment,  or  passion,  o 
fancy  may  dictate." 

Here  no  temple  spires  frown  upon  the  gay  votary  of  pleasure 
but  beneath  the  very  shadow  of  the  old    cathedral,  and   unde 
the    unreproving   eye   of  those    who    minister   at   her    altars, 
may  pur.sue   pleasure,  in   her  wildest  revels,  to  her   hidden   an' 
most  secret  retreats.     Here,  in  a  little  cabaret,  looking  out  upi- 
the  place  (Tarmes,  a  large  and  beautiful  public  square,  upon  tin 
broad,  majestic  Mississippi,  might  be  seen  some  half  dozen  old 
Creoles  aiound  a  table,  intent  upon  a  game  of  dominoes,  while 


176  woman's   faith. 

across  the  street,  stood  a  palatial  coffee-house,  gaudy  in  its  archi- 
tecture, and  most  sumptuously  furnished  with  all  that  could  tempt 
the  lover  of  dissipation.  Here  were  coteries  of  business  men,  in 
various  converse,  and  not  disdaining  to  "enliven  their  racy  speech^ 
with  the  generous  eau  de  vie  ;  at  another  table  was  a  knot  of  wily 
politicians,  instructing  a  gaping  crowd,  and  securing  their  suff- 
rages, by  frequent  appliances  of  gin  toddies  ;  while  at  the  bar  were 
a  crowd  of  gay  young  men,  instantly  engaging  the  services  of 
waiters  in  preparing  juleps  and  cocktails.  It  was  a  scene  of  wild 
revelry,  and  such  as  was  hourly  exhibited  in  that  pleasure-loving 
city. 

Men  from  all  classes  of  society,  freely  mingled  in  the  scenes  of 
revelry  and  dissipation.  At  the  cock-pit,  at  the  gaming  table,  upon 
the  race  course,  persons  of  all  professions  and  callings,  were  seen, 
eagerly  intent  upon  the  sport  before  them,  and  wagering  thousands 
upon  the  throw  of  a  card,  upon  the  strength  of  a  chicken,  or  upon 
the  fleetness  of  some  favorite  courser.  Life  was  one  great  gala- 
day,  present  amusement  and  excitement  the  chief  object  of 
existence. 

Here  were  men  from  all  nations.  As  if  by  common  consgnt, 
the  ordinary  restraints  which  in  the  other  cities  of  the  country 
men  imposed  upon  themselves,  were  here  thrown  off.  And  though 
courts  were  organized,  they  had  little  to  do,  but  to  deal  with  the 
petty  offences  of  the  low  and  degraded ;  men  in  the  higher  ranks 
of  life  defended  their  own  lives  and  honors  from  any  and  all 
assailants. 

The  ball  room,  which  to  night  was  brilliant  with  the  beauty  and 
fashion  of  that  metropolis,  which  echoed  with  unrivalled  music, 
to-morrow  was  the  chosen  spot,  where  sotoe  young  Creoles  were 
engaged,  according  to  custom,  with  small  swords,  to  punish  some 
real  or  fancied  breach  of  etiquette.  Fascinating  to  the  heated  imagi- 
nation of  Grafton  were  such  scenes,  and  such  a  society.  Here  he 
could  drown  all  recollections  which  might  mar  his  happiness. 


A     TALE     OF     SOUTHERN     LIFE.  17t 

Here  he  could  find  associates  who  would  laugh  at  the  bai'e  men- 
tion of  accountability,  who  recognize  no  authority  superior  to  their 
own  decisions  and  opinions.  Here  the  gay  goddess  of  pleasure 
opened  wide  her  temple  gates,  inviting  her  delighted  votaries  by 
strains  of  delicious  music,  to  enter,  and  taste  the  bliss  which  she 
had  provided.  Here  was  an  apartment  furnished  with  all  those 
luxurious  delicacies  and  decorations  which  could  gratify  the  taste, 
or  minister  to  the  desires  of  the  voluptuous  epicurean.  There  was 
the  chamber  where  were  spread  the  tables  so  delightful  to  the  eye 
of  the  bloated  Bacchanal. 

With  what  new  delight  did  the  care-worn,  wretched  Grafton, 
enter  the  portals  of  this  fascinating  edifice.  Oh  !  had  the  veil  of 
the  future  been  but  for  a  moment  uplifted,  he  would  have  seen 
that  this  "  house  is  the  way  to  hell,  going  down  to  the  chambers 
of  death." 

From  one  scene  of  gaiety  to  another,  Grafton  resorted,  as  if 
determined  to  fill  up  every  moment  with  enjoyment.  He  tasted 
each  pleasure,  till  it  palled  upon  the  sense,  and  then  hurried  to 
new  sources  of  gratification.  Wearied  at  last  in  seeking  happi- 
ness by  himself,  flushed  with  the  fragrant  wines,  which  are  pro- 
vided by  those  who  lure  to  their  retreats  the  victims  of  play,  he 
was  about  to  leave  his  rooms  at  the  hotel,  but  he  happened  to 
meet  at  the  door  some  gentleman,  to  whom  he  had  been  introduced, 
who  at  once  accosted  him. 

"  What,  Mr.  Grafton,  so  early  leave  the  abodes  of  pleasure  ? 
Surely  you  are  not  now  on  your  way  to  your  dull,  solitary  room. 
Night  in  our  gay  city  is  the  time  for  enjoyment,  the  damp,  dreary 
hours  of  the  morning,  the  opportunity  for  sleep  and  refreshment. 
Come,  my  dear  sir,  join  us  in  a  gaille  of  cards,  and  at  a  suitable 
hour,  we  will  accompany  you  to  your  hotel." 

The  remembrances  of  such  a  scene  were  vivid  upon  his  memory, 
and  the  preserice  of  some  of  the  persons,  who  had  once  partici- 
pated with  him  in  it,  for  a  moment  blanched  th«  fece  of  th«  reck- 


178  woman's   faith. 

less  Grafton,  but  the  intoxicating  diafts,  which  he  had  been 
quafling,  were  maddening  his  brain,  and  fearful  that  he  would  be 
stigmatized  with  cowardice,  he  accepted  the  invitation. 

"  But  before  we  sit  down,  to  cards,"  said  Mr.  Morven,  "  let  us 
partake  of  those  delicious  viands,  which  our  friend  Prados  has  so 
bountifully  provided  for  his  friends  and  patrons." 

"How  sparkling,  how  delicious  is  your  champagne,  Mr.  Prados," 
said  Grafton.  "  You  must  be  an  especial  favorite  of  some  vintner 
of  the  sunny  isle — perhaps  he  has  sat  down  to  your  unrivalled 
suppers,  and  seeks,  in  this  way,  to  discharge  the  obligation." 

"  You  are  complimentary,  Mr.  Grafton.  These  wines,"  continued 
Prados,  "do  well  enough  to  wash  down  a  cut  from  the  breast  of 
a  canvas-back  duck,  or  from  a  haunch  of  venison,  but  I  have  a 
bottle  of  old  Madeira,  which  connoisseurs  pronounce  unequalled 
for  richness  and  delicacy  of  flavor.  Pray  do  me  the  honor  of 
tasting  it,  and  tell  us  if  it  is  equal  to  the  old  wines,  a  bottle  of 
which,  I  am  told,  is,  at  each  dinner,  belted  away  by  aristocratio 
Virginians." 

'^  It  does,  not  require  the  certificate  of  any  person,"  said  Grafton, 
"  to  establish  its  claim  to  excellence.  It  bears  its  true  stamp  on 
its  own  beaded  face.  If  Virginians  drink  wine  like  this,  it  is  easy 
to  account  for  their  generosity,  i^  as  it  is  said,  good  Wine  make* 
good  fellows." 

The  supper  and  the  wines  having  been  fully  discussed,  the  gen 
tlemen  retired  to  a  room,  furnished  in  the  most  costly  and  luxuri- 
ous manner,  and  the  wines  which  had  so  delighted  the  palate  of 
Grafton,  abounded  upon  the  handsome  side-board. 

"Well,  what  shall  our  game  be,  Mr.  Grafton?"  said  Mor- 
ven. 

"  Brag  has  more  of  excitement  about  it,"  replied  Grafton,  "  but 
as  my  crop  is  somewhat  unpromising,  I  hope  you  will  limit  the 
game,  and  not  send  me  home,  from  the  table,  with  hardly  moa^y 
enough  to  buy  ploughs  and  mules  for  my  plantaticm." 


A    TALE     OF     SOUTHERN     LIFE.  179 

With  some  other  laughing  remarks,  the  party  began  their 
game. 
^  A  lurking  devil  might  have  been  seen  in  the  malignant  sneer, 
which  sometimes  played  across  the  dark  features  of  young  Lavas- 
seur,  as  he  exchanged  a  somewhat  knowing  wink,  with  one  or  two 
Creoles,  who  were  overlooking  the  game. 

The  wine  cup  went  busily  round,  which  with  the  excitement  of 
high  play,  occasionally  aroused  the  stormy  passions  of  the  game- 
sters. 

Grafton  had  interposed  more  than  once,  to  quiet  an  incipien' 
quarrel,  between  Morven  and  Lavasseur,  when  all  drank  ful" 
bumpers  to  drown  any  hard  feeling,  and  again  the  play  wa- 
resumed;  most  extravagant  was  the  betting,  and  the  interest  of  all 
was  raised  to  the  highest  pitch.  Again,  a  dispute  arose  between 
some  one  and  Lavasseur,  high  and  angry  words  were  exchanged, 
when,  once  more  with  some  asperity  of  manner,  Grafton  inter- 
fered. 

"  You  seem  inclined,  Mr.  Lavasseur,"  said  Grafton,  "  to  be  quar- 
relsome to  night;  some  little  coolness  and  candor  on  your  part, 
would  convince  you,  that  you  are  now,  as  you  have  been  twice 
before,  in  the  wrong.  These  ebullitions  of  temper  are  becoming 
to  me,  at  least,  somewhat  distasteful." 

"  You  have  several  times  before,  sir,"  said  Lavasseur,  address- 
ing Grafton,  "  meddled  officiously  and  offensively  in  what  does  not 
concern  you.  I  neither  desire  your  advice,  nor  will  I  submit  to 
your  impertinence." 

"  I  shall  not  bandy  words  with  you,  sir,"  said  Grafton.  "  He  who 
has  any  pretensions  to  the  character  of  a  gentleman  will  not  resorr 
•to  bullying  and  braggadocio  to  sustain  himself  when  he  finds  him- 
self in  the  wrong.  True  courage  fears  not  to  apologize,  when 
right  requires  an  acknowledgment." 

"  And  cowardice  frequently  assumes  high  sounding  phrase,'" 
said  Lavasseur,  "  for  purposes  ©f  concealment.     Your  reputation 


180  woman's    FAITH. 

is  too  well  established  in  this  community,  Mr.  Grafton,  to  allow 
you,  to  set  yourself  up,  as  a  censor,  for  the  correction  of  the  man- 
ners, and  morals  of  gentlemen. 

When  you  shall  have  satisfactorily  replied  to  a  touching  tale 
of  wrong  and  suffering,  related  some  time  since,  in  our  public 
prints,  then  it  may  become  you  to  lecture  those,  with  whom  you 
may  be  associated." 

"  To  what  does  your  insolent  remark  refer  ?"  said  Grafton. 
.  "I  think  sir,"  said  Lavasseur,  the  heroine  or  heroines  of  the 
tale  were  Emma,  and  " 

At  the  mention  of  this  name,  Grafton  sprung,  with  the  ferocity 
of  a  tiger,  at  the  throat  of  his  adversary,  but  with  the  rapidity  of 
thought,  Lavasseur,  who  expected,  and  was  well  prepared  for  the 
attack,  drew  from  his  bosom  a  dagger,  and  with  a  single  thrust, 
sent  it  home  to  the  heart  of  his  assailant.  "Perish,  murderer  of 
my  cousin !     Lapere,  you  are  at  last  avenged !" 

With  a  look  of  intensest  agony,  as  if  the  memories  of  years 
were  crowded  in  these  moments  of  expiring  nature,  he  gazed  upon 
those  around  him,  as  if  for  relief  from  the  dying  pangs,  and  in  a 
moment  more,  fell  lifeless  into  the  arms  of  Morven  1 

Despair  was  written  in  clear  and  legible  characters,  upon  the 
distorted  visage  of  Frank  Grafton  1 

With  almost  indecent  haste,  and  in  silence,  bis  cold  remains 
were  borne  to  the  potter's  field.  No  tear  was  shed  at  his  grave, 
no  sorrowing  friend  was  present  at  his  funeral  obsequies  I 


A    TALE    OF    SOUTHERN    LIFE.  18] 


CHAPTER    XXXVI. 

"Wb  must  now  take  our  readers  to  another  chamber,  where  the 
awful  form  of  death  was  approaching,  with  such  noiseless  steps, 
that  even  affection  itself,  was  calm  and  unterrified. 

The  heart  of  Blanche  seemed  to  have  been  preparing,  by  trials^ 
and  by  scenes  of  deep  distress,  for  the  coming  of  an  event,  which 
required  all  the  fortitude  of  the  strongest  nature.  Her  love  for 
her  mother,  had  never  known  limit  or  abatement.  To  but  one 
heart,  had  she  ever  revealed  the  sad  story  of  wounded  affection, 
maternal  love  and  tenderness  had  softened  the  blow  which  had 
struck  down  the  hopes  and  happiness,  that  had  brightened  the 
springtime  of  existence.  To  that  ear  of  love,  the  shrinking  deli- 
cacy, which  trembled  at  an  allusion,  even,  to  the  cause  of  hidden 
sorrow,  fearlessly  whispered  the  secret  of  her  soul,  and  the  disclo- 
sure brought  soothing  and  peace. 

And  now,  by  a  beautiful  provision  of  Nature,  the  stem,  which 
was  breaking  beneath  the  pressure  of  years  and  disease,  was  to 
receive  support  from  the  branch,  to  which  it  had  imparted  its 
strength  and  aliment.  So  gradually  had  the  constitution  of  Mrs. 
Lefort  given  way,  so  hopeful  and  uncomplaining  was  she  ever, 
that  her  husband  and  children  had  never,  for  a  moment,  consi- 
dered her  in  danger. 

But  now  the  awful  truth  stared  them  in  the  face,  that  a  rapid 
decline  would  soon  take  from  them,  this  idolized  object  of  their 
affections. 

"  I  have,  for  some  time,  felt,  dear  Blanche,  that  my  days  upon 


182  woman's   faith. 

earth  were  numbered ;  and  yet  I  could  not  bear  to  alliict  your 
heart,  already  bleeding,  by  telling  you  of  ray  apprehensions. 
But,  I  am  sure,  we  shall  not  long  be  separated- 

"So  firm  is  my  faith  in  the  Word  of  life,  that  the  passage  from 
earth  to  heaven,  seems  but  a  step,  and  all  our  desire  should  be, 
submission  to  the  will  of  our  heavenly  Father." 

"  Dearest  mother,  how  I  wish  I  could  journey  with  you  to  the 
abodes  of  the  blessed.  I  have  seen  death,  in  all  its  forms,  during 
the  prevalence  of  that  terrible  epidemic,  which  so  Jately  visited 
us ,  and  so  often  has  the  messenger  come  clothed  in  bright  array, 
and  with  words  of  hope,  that  now  all  which  strikes  me  with 
dread  and  sorrow,  is  separation." 

"  Dreaming  last  night,  dear  Blanche  1  and  yet  was  it  a  dream  ? 
for  the  vision  is  even  now  so  distinct,  the  impression  so  vivid' 
before  my  mind. 

"  I  saw  a  home  prepared  for  us  all,  in  a  place  lovely  beyond  all 
description.  Ambrosial  bowers,  lighted  up  by  soft,  unfading  rays, 
were  ours.  Music,  sweeter  than  the  breathings  of  the  lute,  and 
gentle  zephyrs,  floating  over  floral  beds,  filled  the  air  with  angelic 
harmonies,  and  delicious  fragrancy. 

"  Fear  and  fatigue  were  banished  thence.  No  night  was  there. 
Hunger  and  distress  were  unknown  in  that  peaceful  habitation. 
Was  it  not  a  realization  of  the  sweet  promise  ?  '  In  my 
Father's  house  are  many  mansions ;  I  go  to  prepare  a  place  for 
you.' " 

Day  after  day  passed  away,  bringing  nearer  and  nearer  to  her 
last  home,  the  patient,  resigned,  and  happy  wife  and  mother.  It 
seemed  to  be  her  oflfice  to  soothe  and  relieve,  by  words  of  comfort 
and  hope. 

The  daily  calls  of  the  physician,  were  more  a  matter  of  cere- 
mony and  kindness,  than  for  the  purpose  of  administering 
medicine ;  for  he  had,  some  days  since,  been  compelled  to 
aunounue  to  the  anguished  husband,  that  her  disease  was  beyond 


A    TALE    OF    80UTHEEN    LIFE.  183 

all  human  skill,  that  he  only  hoped  to  palliate  the  suft'erings 
which  she  would,  perhaps,  endure. 

With  the  sweetest  smile,  would  she  repay  the  delicate,  sleepless 
attentions  of  her  devoted  husband ;  and  to  any  word  of  repining, 
she  would  tell  him,  "  How  happy  had  been  their  lives ;  how  much 
have  we  to  be  thankful  for,  and  how  sweet  to  you  will  be  the 
recollections,  that  during  our  many  years  of  married  life,  my 
happiness  has  been  your  chiefest  study. 

"  And  we  are  permitted  to  die  in  peace,  while  my  dear  sister 
And  mother  perished  upon  the  block,  under  the  cruel,  unjust 
sentence  of  wicked,  bloody-minded  men.  Ours,  too,  are  the  con- 
solations of  unwavering  faith." 

During  the  sickness  of  Mrs.  Lefort,  she  was  visited  by  Paul 
Eaton.  He  had  studied  little  else  than  his  Bible,  and  the  beauti- 
ful hymns  of  Wesley.  There  was  a  simplicity  and  single-hearted- 
ness about  him,  without  the  slightest  tinge  of  cant  or  bigotry 
that  gave  a  peculiar  charm  to  his  society.  All  asperity  was  so 
softened  down  by  that  "  charity  which  hopeth  all  things  and  is 
kind  ;"  a  faith  so  clear,  so  steadfast,  so  realized,  that  his  commun- 
ings seemed  those  of  an  inhabitant  of  some  brighter  sphere. 
You  perceived,  at  once,  in  his  manner,  how  truly  and  implicitly 
he  obeyed  the  injunction,  "take  no  thought  for  your  life,  what  ye 
shall  eat,  neither  for  the  body,  what  ye  shall  put  on."  In  neat 
and  simple  attire,  he  went  about,  visiting  alike  the  abodes  of 
wealth  and  poverty,  and  with  words  of  kindness  and  peace, 
solaced  the  hearts  of  sorrow  and  distress. 

"  I  came,"  said  Eaton,  on  one  of  his  visits  to  Mrs.  Lefort,  "  to 
acquire  for  my  own  heart,  peace  and  strength,  more  than  with 
any  expectation  of  imparting  it  to  you,  Mrs.  Lefort." 

"  I  am  always,"  said  Mrs.  Lefort,  ''  most  happy  to  see  you.  My 
faith  is  streiioLliened,  my  hopes  brightened,  by  the  delightful 
views  you  ever  hold  up  of  Christian   experience.     You  yourself 


184  woman's     FAITH. 

have  been  called  to  pass  through  fiery  trials,  and  well  know  the 
true  sources  of  relief  and  consolation." 

"  My  troubles  have  all  been  light  indeed,  when  compared  with 
those  who  have  been  compelled  to  drink  the  bitter  cup,"  said 
Eaton.  "  At  times,  persecution  seemed  preparing  for  me  the 
crown  of  martyrdom,  but  the  power  of  the  Highest,  was  put  forth 
and  scattered  my  enemies." 

"  Were  you  not  afraid,  said  Mrs.  Lefort,  of  the  wily  arts,  and 
desperate  cunning  of  the  Jesuit  priest,  who  had  determined  upon 
your  destruction  ?" 

"  Somewhat,  Mrs.  Lefort,  but  I  fear  a  relation  of  these  old 
troubles  will  weary  you.     They  all  eventuated  for  good." 

"  It  is  cheering  to  me,  Mr.  Eaton,  to  hear  of  the  deliverance  of 
those,  who  have  trusted  in  a  stronger,  than  an  arm  of  flesh." 

"  Oh,  Mrs.  Lefort,  I  never  weary  in  speaking  of  the  goodness  of 
my  Deliverer.  I  confess,  so  hedged  up  was  my  way  by  the  cun- 
ning, crafty  conduct  of  Justiniani,  and  by  the  wickedness  of  Bennet, 
that  I  saw  no  chance  for  escape.  It  was  indeed  a  severe  trial  of 
my  faith,  just  such  an  one  as  I  needed.  My  heart  was  failing  me, 
for  I  feared  that  the  machiiiations  of  the  '  man  of  sin^'  for  the 
ovethrow  of  the  true  faith  here,  would  be  successful. 

"  The  great  learning,  the  deep  knowledge  of  the  human  heart, 
possessed  by  this  priest — to  the  ignorant  and  the  timid,  assuring 
them  of  their  safety  in  absolution,  to  the  more  intelligent  and 
sincere,  referring  them  to  the  pure  and  beautiful  morality  and 
character  of  Fenelon.  And  then  the  religious  rites,  so  imposing, 
all  addressed  to  the  eye  and  the  ear,  music  and  painting  lending 
their  powerful  influence,  to  awaken  and  hold,  as  if  spell-bound,  the 
sensibilities  of  our  nature,  were  all  but  irresistible.  And,  added  to 
this  was  the  effort  of  the  dram-selling  of  Bennet,  so  brutalizing. 
Under  all  these  discouragements,  I  was  yielding  to  despair,  and 
about  to  abandon  this  loveliest  spot,  when  by  a  way  unknown  to 


A     TALE     OF     8  0UTHEKN     LIFE.  185 

me,  I  was  taught  the  sin  of  supposing,  tliat  by  my  arm,  or  my 
strength,  were  these  influences  to  be  destroyed." 

"The  manifestation  of  the  finger  of  Heaven,  was  clear  in  your 
deliverance,  said  Mrs.  Lefort,  and  in  the  removal  of  the  hindrances 
to  the  cause  of  virtue  and  morality." 


186  "    woman's  faith. 


CHAPTER    XXXVII. 

After  the  conversation  mentioned  in  the  foregoing  chapter, 
Mrs.  Lefort  seemed  to  amend.  Oh,  how  does  nature  rally  all  her 
forces  to  contend  against  its  last  enemy !  Mrs.  Lefort  now 
appeared  unusually  animated,  her  voice  seemed  stronger,  the . 
bright  smile  played  around  her  handsome  features,  the  hectic  glow " 
wanning  into  fresh  life  the  cheek,  which  but  now,  had  put  on  the 
marble  paleness  of  swift  coming  dissolution.  The  singing  of  the 
birds,  and  the  beauty  of  the  blooming  flowers,  as  they  threw  open 
the  casement,  delighted  her. 

Was  it  a  foretaste  of  coming  bliss,  a  prevision  of  amaranthine 
bowers,  vouchsafed,  to  the  spirit,  yet  lingering  upon  the  confines  of 
its  celestial  home  ? 

"  Hold  me  a  little  longer  on  the  brink,"  she  would  seem  to  say, 
as  her  foot  was  touching  the  dark,  cold  waters !  Oh,  how  would 
the  eye  of  hope  beam  with  a  new  rapture,  the  tear  of  sorrow 
giving  place  to  the  tear  of  joy,  at  these  deceptive  indications  of 
recovery  !  The  hours  of  the  day  were  swiftly  passing,  the  strong 
arm  of  affection  and  love  had  no  power  to  stay  them,  and  at  even- 
ing's close,  the  agonized  heart  should  hear  those  icy  words  of 
bereavement,  "  it  is  all  over !"  Unmistakable  as  appeared  to  the 
disinterested  eye,  the  indications,  that  near  at  hand  was  the  hour 
of  departure  of  the  wife,  so  highly  prized — the  mother,  so  dearly 
loved — to  the  husband  and  the  daughters,  there  was  still  a  hope, 
that  she  might  be  rescued  from  the  power  of  the  grave.  She  was 
all  too  precious  to  their  hearts.    They  would  conceal  their  darkest 


A    TALE    OF    SOIITHEKN    LIFE.  187 

apprehensions  in  redoubled  offices  of  affection,  and  cling  with  a 
firmer  tenacity,  to  the  bright  form,  now  instinct  with  life  and 
loveliness. 

"  How  melancholy,  and  y6t  how  surpassingly  interesting  is  the 
chamber,  in  which  remains  the  spirit,  about  to  be  released  from 
its  clayey  tenement  1  The  noiseless  step,  the  half  suppressed  sigh, 
the  last  kind  offices  of  affection,  the  sorrowing  faces,  all  tell  the 
frightful  apprehensions,  which  must  be  voiceless." 

With  trembling  accent,  Mrs.  Lefort  said,  "Raise  me  a  little, 
husband,  that  I  may  look  out,  once  more  upon  the  lawn,  for  with 
parting  day,  the. sun  of  my  life  will  have  set  for  ever.  How  beau- 
tiful are  the  flowers  !  He  made  them,  and  the  sweet  songs  of  the 
birds — all  are  vocal  with  His  praise  1 — Oh,  it  seems  to  me  I  hear 
the  whispers,  that  come  from  the  heavenly  plains !  '  Sister  spirit, 
come  away  !'  Don't  you  hear  the  rich  notes  from  those  harps  of 
gold  !  I  see  a  bright  throng,  they  are  wearing  their  starry  crowns ! 
Oh,  listen  to  that  song, — '  To  Him  that  loved  us,  and  washed  us 
from  our  sins,  in  his  own  blood !'     Bright — Beautiful — Heaven  !'* 

A  placid,  angelic  smile  lighted  up,  with  a  heavenly  beauty,  the 
face  of  the  dying  wife  and  mother.  Her  breathings  were  so 
hushed  and  still,  that  the  heart-broken  attendants  about  her  bed> 
told  by  their  sobbings,  their  fears,  that  she  was  gone. 

A  moment  more,  she  opened  wide  her  large,  blue  eyes,  expres- 
sive of  wonder  and  affection,  as  if  permitted  once  again  to  look 
upon  those  she  had  loved  so  well,  and  then  the  light  of  life  fe,ded 
from  those  half-closed  orbs!  And  that  form,  but  yesterday  so 
eomely,  "  in  the  grace  of  the  fashion  of  it,"  now  took  on  the 
rigidity  of  death.  So  calm,  so  peaceful  had  been  the  departure, 
that  you  would  fain  look  away  from  the  cold  vacant  casket  before 
you,  assured  that  the  jewel  was  not  lost,  but  yet  glistened  with 
new  beauty  and  brilliancy,  in  the  crown  of  Him,  who  had  made 
that  bed  of  death  a  chariot,  to  convey  the  now  spiritual  and  glori- 
fied body  to  the  climes  of  complete,  unending  fruition ! 


188  woman's  taith. 


CHAPTER    XXXVIII. 

Who  can  tell,  save  those  who  have  felt  it,  the  desolation  wh\cb 
presides  in  that  home,  when  one  of  the  honored  heads  lies  low  and 
still,  wrapped  in  the  dread  drapery  of  death !  The  first  noisy 
ebullition  of  feeling  is  over,  the  floods  of  tears  are  for  the  mo 
ment  dried,  and  crowding  together,  as  if  to  fill  up  the  place  made 
vacant  around  that  now  desolate  hearthstone,  with  folded  hands 
and  downcast  eyes,  they  sit,  mute  pictures  of  consuming  grief! 
The  sweet  prattle,  the  merry  laugh  of  childhood  once  so  cheering 
and  joyous,  now  grates  upon  wounded  hearts,  and  the  artless 
inquiry  of  little  Willie,  if  grandmother  is  in  heaven,  opens  afresh 
the  lacerated  hearts  of  the  sorrowing  survivors. 

Blanche,  once  the  fragile,  delicate  flower,  the  earliest  to  demand, 
and  receive  the  warm  caress,  first  in  the  thought  of  parental  love, 
if  danger  threatened,  or  trouble  lowered,  because  the  least  able  to 
endure  the  shock,  now  seemed  most  competent,  from  her  fortitude 
and  composure,  to  lead  these  stricken  ones  away  from  the  grave 
of  buried  love,  and  to  direct  their  thoughts  to  the  only  refuge  for 
the  sorrowing  and  heavy  laden. 

"Father,"  said  Blanche,  "  never  did  I,  as  now,  feel  the  absolute 
want  of  your  society  and  love.  Will  we  not,  all  the  better,  cherish 
the  memory  of  my  dear  sainted  mother,  by  making  the  home  she 
once  loved  so  well,  always  happy  and  cheerful." 

"  I  know,  dear  Blanche,  that  it  is  wrong,  and  worse  than  useless, 
to  yield  to  the  heavy  blow  which  has  fallen  upon  our  house.  For 
your  sake  I  will  try  and  be  cheerful." 


A    TALE     OF     SOUTIIEEN     LIFE.  189 

"  Not  for  my  sake  only,  dear  father.  Your  own  heart  must  be 
comforted,  your  own  spirit  cheered.  Otherwise,  how  always  dark 
and  desolate  will  be  your  chamber,  when  you  are  alone,  with  your 
own  tlioughts,  and  your  heart  would  cherish  the  most  gloomy  and 
sad  reflections." 

"  This,  dear  Blanche,  is  the  bitterest  drop  in  the  cup,  I  must 
drink  of.  When  with  you  and  Louise,  and  William,  and  the 
children,  I  feel  that  I  have  still  great  blessings  left  me,  and  am 
soothed  by  their  society.  But  when  I  go  to  her  room,  I  then  feel 
the  extent  of  that  loss,  which  has  laid  low  all  hopes  of  happiness." 

"I  on  the  contrary,  dear  father,  am  never  so  cheerful  as  when 
in  the  room  she  so  lately  occupied.  I  love  to  see  her  chair  placed 
by  the  table,  near  the  window  she  loved  so  well,  her  beautiful  work- 
box,  so  neatly,  so  conveniently  furnished,  all  open  as  she  left  it,  her 
Bible,  so  precious  to  her  heart,  so  frequent  in  her  hand,  that  beau- 
tiful picture  which  she  admired  so  much,  '  Christ  stilling  the 
storm.'  I  seem  here  to  feel  her  presence  and  enjoy  communion 
with  her  happy  spirit." 

"  I  know,  Blanche,  that  this  is  true  philosophy,  the  philosophy 
of  the  Bible  ;  but  imagination  utterly  fails  to  bring  relief  for  the 
great  and  terrible  loss,  which  ever  afliicts  me.  Time,  the  great 
healer,  alone  can  mitigate  my  grief,  or  soften  the  blow  that  has  so 
deeply  wounded  me.  Daily  will  we  pursue,  and  cheerfully  as  pos- 
sible, the  same  avocations  which  occupied  us  when  your  mother 
was  with  us. 

"  I  must  live  in  the  children  of  William  and  Louise.  I  cannot 
tell  you  with  what  pleasure  I  watch  the  unfoldings  of  the  beauty 
of  little  Marie,  the  namesake  of  her  grandmother,  whom  she  so 
greatly  resembles,  and  by  whose  graceful  movement  and  gesture, 
I  am  often  most  strikingly  reminded  of  her,  whom  we  this  day 
mourn." 

The  conversations  with  his  daughter  had  most  happily  influ- 
enced the  mind  of  Lefort,  inducing  him  to  shake  oft"  the  melan- 


190  ^        woman's   faith. 

choly,  which  was  preying  upon  his  heart,     lie  saw  how  imperi 
ously  he  was  called  upon,  by  the  love  that  he  bore  to  Blanche, 
now  that  the  confidant  of  her  heart,  her  guide,  her  best  and  strongest 
friend,  had  b^en  taken  away,  to  make  up,  as  far  as  possible,  the 
loss  to  her,  so  great,  so  irretrievable. 

He  was  not  fully,  but  had  been  made  partially  acquainted  with 
the  dire  disappointment  Blanche  bad  suffered,  in  the  continued 
absence  of  Charles  Grafton.  He  had  seen  himself,  and  with 
approval,  the  devoted  attentions  of  Charles,  before  he  left;  he  had 
noticed  the  bright  happy  smile,  which  was  ever  upon  the  face  of 
Blanche,  when  in  the  presence  of  him,  whom  he  regarded  some- 
what in  the  light  of  the  lover  of  his  daughter.  He  had  heard  the 
defences  she  sometimes  ventured  upon,  when  Charles  was  assailed, 
and  readily  guessed  at  the  cause  of  so  much  warmth  and  spirit. 

It  had  neither  escaped  the  eye  of  her  father,  with  what  intense 
anxiety,  she  had  waited  the  slow  passage  of  long  and  weary 
months,  in  the  vain  expectation  of  some  tidings,  some  token  of 
remembrance  from  him,  who  had  awakened  the  first  dream  of 
love,  in  that  young  and  happy  heart.  Little  did  he  imagine  that 
the  kind  and  affectionate  messages,  which  had  been  transmitted  in 
the  letters  from  Charles  to  the  brother,  had  ail  been  suppressed, 
and  that  by  the  most  artful  insinuations,  Charles  was  persuaded, 
if  possible,  to  believe  that  Blanche  had  quite  forgotten  him,  and 
a  gay,  volatile,  coquettish  young  creature,  was  accepting  the  atten- 
tions of  various  lovers.  Mr.  Lefort  had  seen,  with  dismay,  the 
great  change,  that  was  going  on,  in  the  disposition  of  the  daughter,  • 
so  dear  to  his  heart;  saw 'in  her  averted  look,  the  half-sup- 
pressed sigh,  the  occasional  abstraction,  that  «he  was  the  victim  of 
corroding  disappointment. 

Mrs.  Lefort,  without  violating  the  confidence  reposed  in  her  by 
Blanche,  when  she  found  that  her  husband  had  discovered  the 
state  of  her  mind,  had  felt  the  necessity  of  conversing  with  him 
upon  the  subject,  for  the  double  reason  of  inducing  him  to  do  all 


A    TALE     OF     SOUTHERN     LIFE.  191 

in  his  power  to  divert  her,  and  to  put  liiiii  on  his  guard,  lest  he 
should,  by  some  thoughtless  remark,  wound  her  highly  excited 
sensibilities. 

He  ap})reciated  the  great  delicacy,  and  difficulty  of  his  position, 
and  while  the  pride  of  his  own  heart  would  have  dictated  one 
course,  the  deep  love  he  entertained  for  his  daughter,  and  the 
great  apprehension  felt  in  regard  to  her  welfare,  counselled  pru- 
dence, aud  the  utmost  caution.  His  unwearied  efforts  to  lead  her 
naturally  enthusiastic  and  strong  mind  to  some  pursuit,  which 
would  so  fully  occupy  it,  that  if  it  did  not  succeed  in  producing 
forgetfulness,  on  hei-  part,  of  one,  whom  he  thought  had  proved 
himself  by  his  faithless  conduct,  so  unworthy  of  her,  had  been  in 
a  great  measure  successful,  in  bringing  back  peace  to  her  dis- 
quieted bosom. 

She  had  learned  the  blessedness  of  doing  good.  In  soothing 
the  sorrows,  and  alleviating  the  anguish  of  otners,  in  taxing  all 
the  resources  of  her  ingenuity  to  find  some  relief  from  a  despair, 
which  might  be  brooding  over  the  bereaved  and  desolate  heart, 
she  was,  without  perceiving  it,  warding  off  the  dart,  which  would 
have  pierced  and  poisoned  her  own  bosom.  Who  can  tell  the 
gratification,  which  came  home  to  the  heart  of  her  father,  when 
he  saw  the  change,  which  was  wrought  in  the  feeling  of  one,  upon 
whom  he  doated  with  such  fondness,  and  for  whota  he  felt  such 
tender  solicitude?  And  now,  that  a  new  source  of  sorrow,  so  over- 
whelming, had  been  opened  for  Blanche,  Lefort  reflected,  that 
duty  and  love  required  of  him,  to  manifest  that  cheerful  resigna- 
tion, which  she  had  counselled,  which  was  alike  the  dictate  of 
religion,  and  sound  philosophy. 


192  woman's  faith. 


CHAPTER    XXXIX. 

*'  Little  did  I  dream  that  it  would  ever  fall  to  my  lot,  to  be  the 
bearer  of  the  intelligence  of  the  horrid  death  of  Frank  Grafton. 
I  had  supposed  that  in  some  unexpected  hour  of  his  mad  career, 
his  existence  would  terminate.  His  overbearing  disposition,  his 
insolent  manner,  and  his  readiness  for  a  quarrel,  would  place  his 
life  in  imminent  peril,  in  a  city  like  New  Orleans.  And  from  the 
accounts  I  had  of  the  duel  of  his  with  Lapere,  he  seemed  to  be 
indifferent  as  to  his  fate,  or  to  suppose  that  he  bore  a  charmed 
life.  It  is  said,  that  upon  the  field,  he  behaved  with  such  perfect 
coolness,  such  chivalrous  courage,  that  unless  his  antagonist 
should  kill  him  upon  the  first  fire,  his  life  would  not  be  worth  a 
button.  It  w^as  known  that  Grafton  was  perfect  master  of  his 
weapon,  and  being  calm  and  collected,  he  would  shoot  with  the 
same  accuracy  and  precision,  as  if  directing  his  gun  at  the  head 
of  a  squirrel." 

"  What  did  you  say,  husband,  in  your  letter  to  his  brother  ? 
With  your  feelings  toward  Frank  Grafton,  your  abhorrence  of  his 
character,  I  think  your  truthfulness  and  sincerity  must  have 
been  put  to  the  severest  test  in  your  communication." 

"  I  told  him,"  said  Bums,  "  the  simple  truth.  I  wrote  him  all 
the  particulars,  as  far  as  I  knew  them,  of  the  death  of  Frank 
Grafton.  I  informed  him,  that  upon  hearing  the  terrible  news,  I 
immediately  went  to  New  Orleans,  and  inquired  of  his  merchants 
all  the  fdcts  of  the  case.  They  said  it  was  one  of  those  unfortu- 
nate occurrences,  alas !  too  fi-equent  in  the  city.    That  Mr.  Grafk>n 


A    TALE    OF    SOUTHER  NLIFE.  193 

had  dined  with  them  that  day,  and  never  had  appeared  in 
happier  mood,  or  more  cheerful  in  his  disposition.  They 
remarked  they  had  done  all  in  their  power  to  ferret  out  the 
matter,  but  that  it  was  of  little  avail ;  that  the  affair  occurred  in 
one  of  the  fashionable  saloons,  devoted  to  games  of  hazard,  and 
that  it  was  evident  Mr.  Grafton  had  no  friends  present,  for  they 
were  all  ready  to  testify  that  young  Lavasseur,  who  killed  him, 
acted  entirely  on  the  defensive,  and  that  he  only  used  his  weapon, 
when  we  all  saw,  said  they,  that  his  life  was  in  imminent  peril. 
"We  felt  assured,  they  added,  that  a  public  prosecution  would 
result  in  no  good;  that  the  only  eflfect  would  be  to  make  the 
affair  widely  notorious,  and,  that  on  a  public  trial,  disclosures  in 
regard  to  the  character  of  Mr.  Grafton  would  be  made,  which 
would  be  exceedingly  unpleasant  to  the  friends  of  the  deceased. 
Further,  that  the  accused,  from  their  standing  and  wealth,  would 
find  no  diflSculty  in  obtaining  an  acquittal.  I  wrote  him  that  I 
would  do  whatever  he  might  desire,  though  from  any  knowledge 
of  all  the  circumstances,  I  would  advise  that  the  matter  should 
rest  where  it  was.  I  informed  him,  that  I  had  placed  a  most 
trusty  manager  at  Cote  Blanche,  that  the  slaves  were  all  so  docile, 
so  remarkably  intelligent,  and  so  well  understood  the  plans  and 
purposes  cf  his  late  brother,  that  he  might  give  himself  no 
uneasineirf  in  regard  to  his  interests  here.  And  further,  that  if 
he  should  not  find  it  convenient  to  come  out  to  Louisiana,  and 
would  Bond  me  the  necessary  authority,  I  would  go  to  New 
Orleans,  a^id  make  full  settlement,  and  obtain  all  information  in 
regard  to  his  estate.  That  from  the  great  system  in  his  business, 
I  had  no  doubt,  his  brother  left  all  his  affairs  in  such  train,  that 
there  would  be  no  difficulty  in  the  final  adjustment  of  them  ;  the 
more  particularly  as  his  merchants  were  mon  of  the  highest 
standing  for  probity,  and  fair  and  correct  dealing.  And  now, 
wife,  what  say  you  to  my  account  of  this  most  unpleasant  occur- 
rence?    Toward  Frank  Grafton  I  never  felt  any  hostility.     I 

9 


194  woman'sfaith. 

had  a  very  high  respect  for  the  great  talents,  with  wbich  he  vraa 
endowed,  and  bitterly  lamented  that  they  should  hav<?  been  so 
prostituted.  He  died  as  I  feared  he  would.  I  apprehended  that 
he  might  commit  suicider  I  conversed  with  Morven,  who  wa» 
present  at  his  death,  and  he  said  he  had  seen  many  men  die  upor 
the  field,  and  in  aflFrays,  but  that  no  event  had  produced  such  a» 
effect  upon  his  mind,  left  such  a  lasting  trace  upon  his  memory 
as  the  death  of  Grafton.  He  remarked  that  no  tongue  could 
describe  the  anguish  and  horror  depicted  upon  thtf  face  of  the 
dying  man  ;  it  was  not  fear,  it  was  not  dread ;  '  the  only  word  I 
heard  from  his  lips  was : — Memoiy — and  he  fell  dead  in  my  arms. 
The  event  produced  the  stillness  of  the  grave,  not  a  word  was 
spoken  ;  no  reproaches,  and  in  speechless  horror,  we  sought  the 
proper  officers,  and  he  was  buried  out  of  our  sight.'  " 

"  I  had  hoped,"  said  Mrs.  Burns,  "  that  he  would  have  amended 
and  that  upon  repentance  he  might  have  died  in  peace." 

"All  things  are  possible,"  said  Bums,  "but  still  you  could 
hardly  have  expected  it.  A  man  possessed  of  his  proud  bearing, 
so  highly  endowed,  so  intelligent,  and  who  had  apparently,  from 
the  severest  wantonness,  committed  acts  of  unheard  of  barbarity, 
who  had  too  defied  all  restraints  of  society,  or  morality,  who 
seemed  to  be  steeped  in  crime,  and  who  sought  alleviation  for  his 
wounded  conscience  in  every  licentious  indulgence,  and  when 
with  this,  there  was  associated  a  hauteur  of  manner,  and  a  pride 
of  heart  almost  unequalled,  there  seems  to  be  no  means  of  reach- 
ing such  a  man  by  any  influence.  I  have  never  before  spoken  of 
it,  but  I  have  for  sometime  suspected,  that  he  was  the  cause  of 
the  conduct  of  Charles  Grafton  toward  Blanche*  It  is  unaccount- 
able upon  any  other  hypothesis,  for  no  man  can  see,  and  become 
acquainted  with  Charles,  without  feeling  an  assurance  that  he  is 
the  very  soul  of  honor,  and  most  magnanimous  in  all  the  actions 
of  his  life.  He  has  been  wonderfully  successful  in  his  political 
career,  is  caressed  and  flattered,  by  the  firet  men  of  the  nation, 


A    TALE     OF     SOUTHERN    LIFE.  195 

must  know  that  he  is  one  of  the  raost  talented  and  eloquent  young 
members,  in  Congress,  and  withal  he  is  evidently  a  disappointed 
man.  Even  when  I  was  congratulating  hira  upon  his  m<^st  fortun- 
ate debut,  and  told  him  of  the  pleasure  it  would  aftbrd  his  friends, 
he  replied,  with  a  sigh,  that  he  felt  himself  alone  in  the  world, 
and  when  he  asked  me  to  report  hira  favorably  to  your  father,  his 
eyes  filled  with  tears,  and  he  could  scarcely  restrain  his  emotions. 
I  had  a  great  mind  to  mention  the  name  of  Blanche,  but  pride 
would  not  permit  me." 

"  Why  did  you  not,  husband  ?  I  would  have  asked  him  of  the 
reports  I  had  heard  of  his  engagement.  It  would  have  been  so 
natural.     I  am  surprised  that  you  did  not." 

"  I  ought  perhaps  to  have  done  so,"  said  Burns,  "  and  yet  would 
it  not  have  been  delicate  on  my  part?     He  had  made  no  declara- 
tion to  Blanche,  he  had  never  given  me  reason  to  know,  that  he  was 
particularly  interested  in  her.     I  might  have  placed  myself  in  > 
most    awkward,  and   embarrassing   position,  had  I    given  hi» 
cause  to  suspect,  that  Blanche  or  the  family  had  been  disappoir 
ed  by  his  apparent  neglect  of  her.     Had  he  offered  himself  to  her 
when  in  Louisiana,  so  unsettled  were  apparently  his  plans  and 
purposes  in  life,  that,  much  as  I  then  liked  him,  I  should  have 
thought  it  a  most  imprudent  match.     Believe  me,  it  will  yet  turn 
out  that,  in  some  way,  Blanche  has  been  the  cause  of  his  grea» 
devotion  to  political  life,  and  we  shall  hereafter  learn  it  from  h' 
lips." 

"  If  he  should  come  to  Louisiana,"  said  Mrs.' Burns,  "  as  I  think 
he  must  now,  the  acquaintance  may  be  renewed.  But  Blanche  is 
60  changed  in  character,  and  seems  devoted  to.  father,  and  she 
has  so  much  pride  in  her  composition,  that  the  fine  person,  the 
wealth  or  the  honors  of  Charles  Grafton  would  have  little  chance 
in  winning  back  the  affection  which  has  been  slighted.  It  was 
her  first  passion.  I  greatly  feared  it  would  destroy  her.  And 
had  not  father  and  mother,  b}'  a  most  admirable  tact  and  wisdom, 


196  woman's    faith. 

directed  her  ilioughts  to  other  objects,  which,  necessarily,  took  a 
deep  hold  upon  her  feelings  and  interest,  and  had  they  not  been 
unwearied  in  their  devotion  to  her,  I  really  think  the  great  disap- 
pointment would  have  been  fatal  to  her.  And  yet  with  all  her 
love  for  me,  and  our  great  and  life-long  intimacy,  she  never  hinted 
to  me,  that  she  felt  in  Charles  Grafton  any  other  interest  or  regard 
than  that  of  a  warm  friendship." 

"  If  it  can  be  avoided,"  responded  Bums,  "  I  do  not  believe 
Charles  will  come  to  Louisiana,  he  will  not  certainly  this  year. 
As  Congress  sits  in  December,  he  will  hardly  be  able  to  do  so, 
and  he  would  have  no  time  to  accomplish  anything.  This  news 
will  be  a  most  sad  blow  for  him.  He  was  greatly  attached  to  his 
brother,  and  such  a  death  will  be  distressing,  indeed,  tp  one  whose 
sensibilitiefl  are  so  refined  and  delicate." 


A    TALE    OF    SOUTHERN    LIFE.  197 


CHAPTER    XL. 

Charles  Grafton  had  now  received,  with  the  mournful  Intel' 
ligence  of  his  brother's  death,  a  full  account  of  his  affairs. 
Gloomy  indeed  were  his  reflections,  bitter  the  thoughts  that  filled 
his  mind,  as  these  melancholy  mementoes  lay  before  his  eye 
"  With  all  his  faults,  Frank  had  some  most  noble,  redeeming  traits 
of  character,"  said  Charles  to  himself.  "  By  nature  endowed  with 
strong,  ungovernable  passions,  with  talents  of  the  highest  order,  a 
self-relying,  proud  spirit,  how  vital  to  his  own,  and  the  well  being 
of  society,  that  correct  and  virtuous  principles  should  have  been 
instilled  into  his  mind,  while  it  was  plastic,  and  open  to  lasting 
impressions.  He  started  upon  his  career  in  a  most  dangerous  era. 
The  startling  and  brilliant,  yet  most  false  ideasj.  that  sprung  from 
the  men  and  times  of  the  French  revolution,  had  here,  as  else- 
where, a  most  pernicious  influence.  Jefferson,  the  idol  of  Virginia, 
had  just  returned  from  France,  where  his  own  bright  intellect  had 
been  poisoned  and  corroded  by  that  mad  and  wild  infidelity,  which 
would  there  dethrone  the  Almighty,  and  set  up  in  His  place  a 
senseless  beauty,  a  golden  calf,  as  a  proper  object  of  human  adora- 
tion. From  his  fascinating  pen  flowed  these  graceful  essays,  which 
so  fatally  undermined  all  true  and  noble  principles.  My  poor 
brother  ate  the  tempting  fruit  of  that  Upas  tree,  and  its  deleterious, 
deadly  influence,  may  now  be  seen  in  his  early  and  dishonored 
grave.  I  would  have  remained  with  him  in  Louisiana,  but  I  felt 
that  over  him  I  possessed  no  influence,  and  deemed  it  more  safe  to 
trust  him  to  his  own  reflections,  hoping,  that  time  and  thought 


198  woman's    faitu. 

would  bring  about  a  change  in  his  ideas,  and  make  him  yet  a  use- 
ful and  honored  member  of  society. 

From  policy,  or  principle,  it  was  evident  the  management  of  the 
slaves  on  the  plantation  had  been  kind  and  liberal,  and  if  there  was 
no  particular  attachment  between  master  and  slave,  it  was  clear  that 
they  all  regarded  him  as  eminently  just.  Nothing  would  tempt  him 
to  sell  one,  and  from  the  manuscripts  which  were  found,  it  appeared 
that  he  maintained  a  strict  government  with  them  in  all  the  relations 
of  life.  He  promoted  marriage  on  the  plantation,  and  a  solemn 
form  was  given  to  the  contract,  and  he  punished  a  disregard  of  the 
vows,  mutually  assumed.  Each  slave  was  permitted  to  earn  money 
for  himself,  by  accomplishing  more  than  the  task  which  was  given 
him,  and  when  they  were  not  pressed  at  a  particular  season  in  the 
crop,  they  could  find,  readily  and  often,  a  half  day,  in  which  they 
could  make  money  for  themselves,  as  all  the  necessaries  of  life 
were  abundantly  supplied  by  their  master.  With  each  of  them 
he  kept  a  strict  account,  and  the  memoranda  left  by  him,  showed 
precisely  what  each  was  entitled  to.  He  left  a  will,  written  not 
long  after  the  departure  of  Charles,  giving  him  the  bulk  of  his 
property,  and,  although  he  said  in  it,  he  had  no  doubt,  from  the 
generous  nature  of  his  brother,  he  need  hardly  speak  of  it,  he 
should  request  that  the  slaves  should  not  be  sold,  that  they  were 
moat  of  them  old  family  negroes,  had  been  faithful,  and  ihdustrious, 
and  under  his  guidance,  had  been  instrumental  in  amassing  a 
handsome  property.  He  should  leave  them  to  his  brother,  in  the 
fullest  confidence  that  they  would  ever  be  kindly  cared  for. 

"Your  wishes,"  said  Charles  to  himself,  "shall  be  fully  complied 
with.  These  slaves  have  earned,  and  are  well  entitled  to  their  free- 
dom. But  they  are  not  as  yet  fitted  for  it.  They  are  good  farmers, 
some  of  them  are  excellent  mechanics,  and  all  of  them  have  those 
habits  of  industry,  which  under  proper  directions,  will  give  them  a 
handsome  support  Fortunate  am  I,  that  my  brother  has  left  me 
the  means  of  forming  so  exact  an  estimate  of  the  value  of  the  plan- 


A     TALE     0F80UTUERN      LIFE.  199 

tation  at  Cote  Blanche,  for  I  dread  the  bare  idea  of  again  beholding 
a  place,  which  to  me  is  so  full  of  the  most  melancholy  recollec- 
tions. I  little  dreamed  that  I  might  ever,  or  at  least  so  soon,  have 
occasion  to  entertain  the  proposition  made  me  by  Mr.  Stevenson, 
to  purchase  this  property,  and  fortunate  am  I,  that  he  does  not 
make  it  a  sine  qua  non,  to  take  also  the  slaves,  as  he  has  as  many 
as  he  can  profitably  employ  of  his  own.  The  first  proper  oppor- 
tunity which  offers,  I  will  see  Mr.  Stevenson,  and  if  he  still  is 
desirous  of  making  the  purchase,  ihe  place  shall  be  his.  I  will 
make  such  arrangements  for  the  slaves,  as,  while  it  shall  not 
impoverish  me,  shall  make  them  all  comfortable  and  happy.  I 
have  had  their  time  and  services,  I  can  best  repay  them,  by  giving 
them  mine  in  return,  so  far  as  it  shall  be  necessary  and  'jseful  for 
their  interest" 


200  woman's  faitb. 


CHAPTER    XLI. 

It  was  not  long  after  the  events  recorded  in  the  foregoing 
chapter,  that  Mr.  Stevenson  called  upon  Charles  Grafton.  "  He 
had  heard  the  sad  news  of  the  death,"  he  remarked  to  Mr.  Graf- 
ton, "  of  his  brother,  and  called  for  the  purpose  of  expressing  the 
deep  sympathy  he  entertained  for  him  in  this  event,  so  truly  to  be 
deplored.  I  shall  ever  remember  the  kindness  and  hospitality  of 
your  brother.  It  was  that  whole-souled,  generous  conduct  which 
stamped  him  a  real  Virginian.  With  the  whole  charge  of  that 
large  property  upon  his  hands,  he  gave  himself  up  entirely  to  my 
disposal.  He  had  but  few  directions  to  give  to  a  confidential 
slave,  named  Othello,  and  then  he  was  ready  for  any  amusement 
or  recreation.  With  his  yacht  upon  the  Bay,  or  with  the  horses 
in  the  neighboring  country,  he  would  go  with  me  as  I  pleased 
I  know  not  when  I  have  had  so  delightful  a  visit,  and  his  many 
acts  of  kindness  have  endeared  to  me  his  memory." 

"  I  am  much  obliged  to  you,  Mr.  Stevenson,  for  these  expres- 
toous  of  interest  in  my  poor  brother.  His  life  has  been  a  sad  one, 
separated,  as  he  has  been,  from  early  friends  and  associations. 
But  he  thought  it  greatly  to  our  mutual  interest  to  remain  in 
Louisiana,  as  he  said,  he  could  there  realize  so  large  an  income 
from  his  investment.  I  wish,  with  all  my  heart,  that  he  had  been 
contented  with  smaller  means,  and  had  come  back  to  his  native 
State." 

"  I  suppose  you  will  yourself,  as  soon  as  you  can  conveniently, 
remove  to  Cote  Blanche.     You  will  find  it  a  most  delightful  resi- 


A     TALE    or    SOUTIIKHN     LIFE.  201 

dence,  and  everything  goes  on  there  now  with  such  perfect 
system,  you  will  have  little  trouble  in  taking  charge  of  the 
property." 

"  No,  Mr.  Stevenson,  I  do  not  expect,  or  wish,  to  again  abandon 
Virginia.  I  am  greatly  attached  to  it  from  early  associations, 
and  the  generous  friendship  which  has  been  extended  to  me,  has 
bound  me  strongly  and  indissolubly  to  a  people,  to  whom  I  feel 
myself  under  such  large  obligations.  I  shall  ofier  the  plantation 
for  sale  with  all  the  movable  property,  and  the  slaves  I  shall 
remove  to  this  State.  You  once,  expressed  a  wish  to  buy ;  if  it  is 
still  your  desire,  I  will  sell  to  you  at  a  bargain." 

"  Your  brother,  with  that  frankness  peculiar  to  him,  once 
entered  into  a  minute  valuation  of  Cote  Blanche,  and  I  would 
then  gladly  have  taken  it  at  his  estimation,"  said  Stevenson. 

"  I  have  it,  I  presume,"  said  Grafton,  "  in  the  memoranda  sent 
me." 

"  Yes,"  rejoined  Stevenson,  "  these  are  the  very  calculations  he 
made,  when  I  was  in  Louisiana.  I  will  still  willingly  take  it  at 
that  price,  but  upon  one  condition.  I  wish  my  slaves  to  under- 
stand the  system,  upon  which  the  property  has  been  managed, 
and  I  must  have  Othello  for  a  year,  as  my  principal  supervisor. 
I  will  pay  him  five  hundred  dollars,  as  a  salary." 

"  I  will  consent  to  this,"  said  Grafton,  "  with  the  understanding 
that  he  has  no  objection ;  for  hereafter  my  slaves  are  to  work 
for  themselves,  under  my  direction.  I  will  appoint  my  friend, 
William  Burns,  my  agent,  who  will  act  for  me  and  complete  the 
sale  upon  the  terms  we  have  agreed  upon.  And  from  this  time, 
you  Avill  consider  Cote  Blanche  as  yours." 

"  I  feel  greatly  relieved,"  said  Grafton  to  himself,  upon  the 
departure  of  Mr.  Stevenson,  "  with  the  arrangement  I  have  made. 
The  remains  of  Helen,  and  Emma,  and  my  brother,  shall  all  be 
removed  to  our  old  burial-place,  where  quietly  sleep  my  father 
and  mother.    How  gladly  will  I  carry  out  the  plans  I  have 

9* 


202  woman's    faitu. 

adopted  with  the  slaves.  I  will  purchase  for  those  who  are 
fanners,  sufficient  land,  and  put  up  comfortable  Louses,  and  will 
charge  this  to  each  man.  ITie  mechanics  I  will  set  up  in  busi- 
ness, furnishing  them  the  necessary  capital.  With  each,  I  will 
keep  an  exact  account,  and  the  income  from  their  labor,  shall  be 
appropriated  to  discharge  the  debt.  The  arrangement  shall  be 
kept  a  secret  from  them,  as  far  as  may  be,  until,  by  their  conduct, 
it  shall  appear  most  advisable  to  reveal  to  them  my  plans.  All 
of  them  shall  be  at  once  manumitted,  to  prevenc  a  failure  of  my 
intention  in  the  event  of  my  death.  I  shall  still  have  a  compe- 
tency for  all  my  wants  in  the  remaining  property  in  Louisiana. 
The  course  of  conduct  adopted  by  my  brother,  in  the  severe 
training  of  the  slaves,  will,  in  the  end,  greatly  redound  to  their 
good.  They  are  industrious  and  intelligent,  and  have  been 
taught  the  necessity  of  honesty  and  good  conduct,  for  the  promo- 
tion of  their  present  happiness." 

Grafton  was  now  earnestly  and  happily  occupied,  in  carrying 
out  the  plans  which  he  had  devised  for  the  welfare  of  his  slaves. 
He  entered  upon  it,  with  all  that  enthusiasm,  so  peculiar  to  his 
character,  and  had  already  purchased  a  large  tract  of  ground,  in 
a  neighboring  free  State,  on  the  confines  of  a  young,  but  thriving 
and  rapidly  growing,  city.  The  land  was  laid  off  in  parcels  suffi- 
ciently large  for  extensive  gardens.  Plain,  but  neat  and  commo- 
dious cottages,  were  erected  by  the  slaves  themselves,  and  to  eacli 
was  assigned  his  own  establishment.  Grafton  now  employed 
person  thoroughly  acquainted  with  horticultural  pursuits,  the  culti 
vation  of  fruit,  of  ffowers  of  every  description,  as  he  knew  that 
this  must  be  a  most  profitable  investment,  and  all  could  easily  be 
kept  under  his  own  eye  and  control.  The  mechanics  were  pro- 
vided for  in  the  city  as  their  tastes  and  interests  required.  Graf- 
ton now  informed  the  slaves  that  they  were  all  free,  but  that  they 
were  bound  to  him  as  apprentices,  for  seven  years.  "It  will  novr 
depend  upon  your  own  conduct,"  said  he,  "  whether  you  shall  at 


A     TALE     OF     SOUTHERN     LIFE.  203 

the  end  of  this  time  own  the  places  you  now  live  upon,  or  poor 
and  degraded,  become  outcasts  upon  society.  I  will  do  all  in  my 
power  to  promote  your  interests;  if  you  are  frugal,  and  industrious, 
moral  and  correct,  in  your  behavior,  you  will  be  not  only  res- 
pected and  happy,  but  you  will  be  the  owners  of  the  property 
upon  which  you  live.  I  will  keep  with  each  of  you  a  strict 
account ;  your  earnings  shall  all  go  to  the  extinguishment  of  the 
debt,  you  owe  for  your  houses,  land,  and  other  property.  But  if, 
on  the  contrary,  you  are  improvident,  lazy,  and  immoral  in  your 
habits,  you  will  be  poor  and  miserable,  and  I  shall  give  to  others 
the  possessions  I  have  designed  for  you.  I  treat  you,  as  I  would 
my  children ;  work  for  yourselves,  as  you  did  for  me  and  my 
brother,  and  you  will  easily  acquire  everything  you  need."  This 
information  and  advice  was  received  by  those  humble  blacks  with 
the  warmest  expressions  of  gratitude.  Some  of  them  with  tears 
in  their  eyes,  and  upon  bended  knees,  besought  him  to  keep  them 
as  his  slaves,  to  let  them  live  with  him,  in  their  old  home  in  Vir- 
ginia. 

"You  and  Massa  Frank  have  always  been  good  and  kind  to  us; 
Oh,  massa  Charles,"  said  a  faithful  old  negro,  "I  have  carried 
you  on  dese  (Ad  shoulders,  when  you  berry  little  boy.  T  stood  at 
de  bed-side  of  your  fader  when  he  was  breving  he  last  breff,  and 
he  ask  me, '  Ben,  will  you  be  kind  to  my  poor  orphins  V  and  I 
promise  him  to  work  for  you  tell  def.  Massa  Charles,  I  keep  dat 
promise,  put  me  whar  you  may,  dese  hands,  and  dis  head  work 
for  you,  till  dey  lay  in  de  cold  ground  wid  your  fader." 

'*  Ben,  I  thank  you,  and  through  you,  all  of  my  servants.  You 
have  been  always  kind,  faithful  and  devoted.  The  least  I  can  do 
now,  is  to  provide  for  you  and  your  children.  I  regret  that  I 
cy'iuld  not  buy  lands  for  you  all  in  Virginia,  but  it  was  not  in  my 
yower.  Had  I  been  sure  of  life,  I  might  have  kept  you  nominally 
as  slaves,  that  you  might  have  lived  in  Virginia.  But  we  know 
not  at  what  hour  we  may  be  called  from  earth,  and  I  could  not 


204  woman's    faith. 

leave  your  happiness,  your  freedom,  dependent  upon  any  event,  so 
uncertain  as  human  existence.  I  sliall  frequently  see  you,  will 
always  he  ready  to  advise  and  assist  you,  and  when  I  say  you  will 
make  me  happy  hy  acceding  to  this  arrangement,  that  it  is  best 
for  you  and  for  me,  I  trust  you  will  all  willingly  abide  by  the 
course  I  have  adopted.  You  are  no  longer  servants,  you  are  now, 
and  I  trust  ever  will  be,  my  friends.  43e  true  to  youreelves,  and 
you  will  surely  be  hap^y.  Remember,  that  at  your  old  home  in 
Virginia  you  will  ever  be  most  welcome,  and  should  sickness  or 
want  ever  be  your  lot,  and  you  cannot  earn  a  livelihood  for  your- 
selves and  your  families,  come  back  to  the  old  homestead,  you 
shall  there  be  provided  for." 

"  God  bless  you,  dear  Massa,"  was  upon  th«  lips,  and  the  big 
tears  of  gratitude,  and  regret,  upon  the  dark  cheeks  of  those  affec- 
tionate and  faithful  creatures,  who  would  rather  have  still  worn 
the  chain  of  slavery,  than  break,  if  it  must  be,  the  silken  tie  of 
friendship  and  love. 


A.    TALE     OF     80UTHEKN    LIFE.  205 


CHAPTER    XLII. 

Autumn  was  now  wearing  her  sombre,  yet  most  beautiful  attire. 
The  great  limner  of  nature  had  painted,  in  golden  hues,  every  leaf 
and  blossom ;  and  field  and  forest  smiled  in  radiant  light,  and  love- 
liness. The  hoar  frost  which  decked  with  sparkling  spangles  the 
decaying  trunk  of  the  once  majestic  oak,  beautifully  contrasted 
with  the  cheerful  blaze,  that  lighted  up  the  hearth  of  the  cottager. 
In  happy  unison  with  this  outward  display  of  nature,  in  her  chast- 
ened magnificence,  appeared  Oak  Lawn,  its  excelling  beauties  now 
draped  with  sadness.  And  yet,  cheerfulness  had  not  been  ban- 
ished hence,  for  it  was  a  joy,  and  a  delight  to  the  inmates  of  that 
sweet  home,  to  remember  and  talk  of  the.  virtues  of  her,  who  now 
had  left  them.  The  loss  of  one,  made  the  possession  of  those  that 
remained,  all  the  more  precious,  and  they  now  apprehended 
danger,  where  before  it  was  never  dreamed  of.  With  heavy  hearts, 
they  were  now  preparing  for  the  absence  of  Burns,  who  must 
leave  them  for  his  duties  in  "Washington.  The  aff"ection  of  the 
wife  would  prompt  the  wish,  that  he  would  resign  his  seat  in  Con- 
gress, compelling  as  it  did  so  long,  and  so  wide  a  separation,  but 
the  good  sense  of  the  father  contended  against  the  proposition, 
seeing  in  it  a  source  of  unhappiness  for  the  husband  of  his  daughter. 
His  ambition  for  distinction,  his  fitness  for  the  calling  in  life,  which 
he  had  adopted,  his  great  passion  for  active,  stirring  and  intellectual 
pursuits,  all  demanded  that  he  remain,  as  he  was,  in  political  life. 

"  No,  my  daughter,"  said  Mr.  Lefort,  "  you  must  not  seek  to  per- 
suade William  to  give  up  his  place  in  Congress.    He  is  unfitted 


206  woman'sfaitii. 

for  agricultural  pursuits.  His  tastes,  from  education  and  habit, 
imperiously  demand,  that  he  should  devote  himself  to  professional, 
or  political  pursuits." 

"  But,  father,  he  would  soon  acquire  a  taste  for  the  easy  and 
elegant  life  which  you  lead.  He  might  amuse  his  leisure  hours 
with  books,  and  take  part  in  those  interesting  cases,  constantly 
occurring  in  the  courts,  so  that  his  desire  for  the  strife  of 
the  forum  might  be  gratified,  and  his  family  not  be  deprived  of  his 
society." 

"  I  fear,  Louise,  that  you  have  scarcely  discovered  the  depths  of 
that  ambition,  which  now  glows  in  the  breast  of  your  husband. 
He  has  tasted  political  distinction ;  before  his  eye  the  glittering 
crown  has  sparkled,  and  think  you  he  would  not  chafe,  were  he  not 
permitted  to  grasp  it  ?  Let  him,  for  the  present,  remain  in  Con- 
gress, and  with  years,  perhaps  will  come  the  desire  for  rest,  and 
the  enjoyment  of  domestic  life." 

"  He  has  himself  proposed  a  resignation  of  his  seat  in  Congress," 
said  Louise. 

"But  it  was,  I  suspect,"  rejoined  her  father,  "when  he  saw  your 
brow  clouded  with  sadness.  His  warm  and  generous  nature,  sym- 
pathizing with  the  deep  afflictions,  which  have  shrouded  our  home 
with  woe,  would  forget  all  his  brilliant  prospects,  or  thrust  them 
aside,  that  he  might  soften  our  grief  and  mitigate  the  anguish, 
which  all  our  philosophy  is  inadequate  to  soothe  or  conceal." 

"  I  do  not  think  you  understand  the  character  of  William,"  said 
Louise.  "  I  know  that  he  is  ambitious,  that  like  most  men  of  hja 
talents  and  acquirements,  he  is  fond  of  distinction.  His  nature  is 
warm  and  impulsive,  he  enters  with  all  his  might  upon  any  sub- 
ject, which  engages  his  attention,  and  interest.  His  mind  kindles, 
his  soul  burns  with  enthusiasm,  as  his  glowing  imagination  pre- 
sents before  him,  some  achievement,  worthy  of  his  genius.  But 
notwithstanding  his  vast  fund  of  information,  and  knowledge,  his 
splendid  endowments,  there  is  about  him  a  shrinking  delicacy, 


A     TALE     OF     SOUTHEEN     LIFE.  207 

almost  amounting-  to  timidity,  which  gives  liim,  I  sometimes  think, 
a  distaste  for  scenes  of  conflict,  like  those  ever  occurring  in  the 
life  of  a  politician." 

"  The  reason  of  this,  ray  dear,"  said  Lefort,  "  is  obvious.  He  has 
lived  so  much  in  his  closet,  with  his  books,  witnessing  only  the 
contest  of  mind  with  mind,  genius  struggling  with  diflBculties, 
which  its  own  inspiration  alone  could  cope  with,  ambition  fighting 
its  way  up  the  steeps,  in  the  heat  and  burden  of  the  day,  its  fiery 
eye  kindling,  and  its  own  strength  waxing  stronger,  as  it  sees  its 
comrades  fainting  under  the  noontide  heat,  upon  the  scorching 
plain.  Ah,  he  must  not  only  see  Laocoon  struggling  in  tbe 
embrace  of  the  serpents,  he  must  himself  wrestle  with  that  power, 
and  feel  for  his  race  and  country  that  interest  and  love  which 
would  prompt  him  to  dare  all  hazards,  and  encounter  all  trials. 
So  he  will  realize  to  himself  the  visions  which  his  own  patriotism 
must  have  enkindled,  and  stamp  his  name  indelibly  upon  the  age 
in  which  he  lives." 

"  But  why  not,  father,"  said  Louise,  "  make  that  closet  life,  with 
its  rich  experiences,  and  intimate  and  wide  communings,  tell  with 
a  still  broader,  and  more  beneficent  effect  ?  Great  and  important 
services  may,  undoubtedly,  be  rendered  by  the  learning  and  wisdom 
which  the  matured  and  cultivated  intellect  brings  to  the  considera- 
tion of  questions  agitating  the  public  mind,  in  the  august  forums 
of  nations,  but  is  not  the  speaker  lost  sight  of  in  the  magnitude 
of  his  subject?  I  know,  that  the  wonderful  power  of  the  eloquent 
rhetorician  will  accomplish  his  object  by  the  mere  force  of  his 
oratory.  Yet  after  all,  it  is  perhaps,  but  the  power  of  the  magician. 
Whence  does  he  derive  that  marvellous  ability  ?  You  see  the 
armed  knight,  with  his  glittering  corselet,  and  shining  lance,  and 
you  are  amazed  at  the  prodigies  of  strength,  and  valor,  which  laid 
low  in  the  dust,  the  serried  ranks  that  opposed  his  stately  march, 
but  you  forget  the  armory,  in  which  those  keen  weapons  were 
wrought,  the  school  in  which  he  was  taught  to  wield  them  so  skill- 


208  woman's   faith. 

fiilly !  What  are  the  splendid  speeches  of  Burke,  but  learned  and 
brilliant  disquisitions  upon  the  theory  of  government,  prepared 
by  long  study  and  deep  reflection,  and  how  surpassingly  strange 
that  that  richest  gem  in  all  eloquence,  his  vision  of  the  Queen  of 
France,  should  have  been  pronounced  to  vacant  seats.  The 
spoken  speech  might  drive  from  the  house  the  hearers  for  whom 
it  was  prepared,  but  so  long  as  language  and*  civilization  shall  live 
he  will  ever  have  an  admiring  auditory,  charmed  with  the  written 
wisdom,  the  felicitous  thought  and  expression,  that  glow  upon  his 
brilliant  pages !" 

"  But  what  has  all  this  to  do,  Louise,  with  the  course  in  life  of 
William  ?"  said  Lefort. 

"Why,  that  he  might  accomplish  all  that  you  seem  to  desire, 
even  should  he  resign  his  seat  in  Congress,"  replied  Louise.  "I 
would  have  him  leave  something  behind  him,  something  more  per- 
manent and  enduring  than  a  few  brilliant  speeches,  upon  topics 
that  lose  their  interest  with  the  occasion  which  called  them  forth. 
I  would  not  have  him  throw  aside  his  professional  pursuits,  but 
with  the  performance  of  these  duties,  here  he  would  find  time  and 
leisure  for  the  prosecution  of  those  studies,  which  he  might  require^ 
to  fit  him  to  take  a  high  place  in  the  field  of  letters.  And  how 
delightful  would  such  a  life  be,  useful  to  the  world ;  to  himself  and 
family,  delightful  beyond  all  expression." 

"  I  suspect  some  little  selfishness  lurks  beneath  the  splendid  pic- 
ture, which  your  vivid  imagination  has  portrayed  with  such  bril- 
liant coloring.  I  greatly  fear,  were  William  to  resign  his  seat  in 
Congress,  and  give  up  his  ambitious  views,  he  would  return  to  the 
quiet  of  Oak  Lawn,  and  find,  beneath  its  ample  shade,  the  ease 
and  tranquillity,  which  impatiently  listens  to  the  calls  of  labor  and 
exertion.  No,  Louise,  he  requires  just  such  a  school  as  Congress 
for  the  development  and  training  of  his  superior  intellect.  There 
he  will  lose  that  timidity  of  which  you  speak,  whi  h,  if  it  is  not  a 
blemish  upon  his  character,  has  at  least  the  effect  of  concealin^i^. 


A    TALE     OF    SOUTHKKN    LIFE.  209 

in  a  measure,  those  high  powers  which  will  yet  give  him  a  proud 
position  among  the  most  eminent  men  of  the  age." 

"  You  always  overpower  me,"  said  Louise,  "  by  the  ingenuity  of 
your  arguments.  I  had  built  a  beautiful  castle,  and  you  seemed 
too  readv  to  demolish  it." 


210  woman's  faith. 


CHAPTER    XLIII 

^k.^  J  and  months  were  now  hurrying  past,  and  but  few  occur- 
rences of  interest  transpired,  to  vary  the  monotony  of  life,  passed 
at  Oak  Lawn.  Blanche  found  in  the  library,  not  only  for  herself, 
a  resource  against  carking  care,  but  in  the  absence  of  Burns,  her 
father  and  sister  had  joined  her,  and  listened  to  her  delight- 
ful reading  from  favorite  authors.  She  had  learned,  by  bitter 
experience,  to  beware  of  certain  books,  in  which  were  mirrored 
the  trials  of  her  own  mind,  and  heart,  for  she  had  sometimes 
unwittingly  fallen  upon  a  page  which  told  so  touchingly  of  disap- 
pointed affection,  that  her  trembling  voice,  and  agitated  coun- 
tenance revealed  the  secret,  which  now  she  trusted  to  no  one. 
The  passion,  which  was  once  the  joy  of  her  heart,  she  at  this  time 
cherished,  as  does  the  heart-broken  lover  the  memory  of  her,  who 
went  to  an  early  grave,  when  their  first  vows  were  plighted. 
Never  had  she  seemed  so  touchingly  beautiful.  Her  manners, 
once  coyish,  her  sarcastic  nature,  once  delighting  in  the  use  of 
dangerous  weapons,  her  wild  disposition,  almost  forgetting,  in  its 
fascinating  playfulness,  the  sensibilities  of  others,  had  now  wholly 
changed.  Now  a  perfect  simplicity,  and  elegance  marked  all  her 
conduct,  the  mild,  gentle,  and  lovely  temper,  which  affection 
imparts,  was  exhibited  in  every  act  and  look,  and  the  whole  pur- 
pose of  her  being  seemed  to  be  to  promote  the  happiness  of  those 
around  her.  Her  heart  glowed  with  a  new  and  warm  affection, 
as  she  received  the  oft-repeated  kiss  of  little  Willie,  whose  bright 
and  lovely  features  were  lighted  up  with  that  expression,  whiih 
makes  childhood  so  engaging. 


A     TALE     OF     SOUTHERN     LIFE.  2H 

Willie  had  the  large,  sparkling  eye  of  his  mother,  his  golden 
hair  curled  in  richest  profusion  over  his  brow  and  neck,  his  face 
so  sparkled  with  intelligence  and  good-nature,  and  his  artless 
speech  was  so  cunning,  that  no  heart  could  resist  the  power  of 
his  enchantment.  Blanche  whiled  away  many  an  hour  with  her 
favorite  little  nephew,  adorning  him,  gratifying  his  young  fancy 
for  pictures,  so  that  before  he  had  learned  a  letter,  he  knew  all 
animals,  from  the  king  of  the  forest,  down  to  the  wee  meadow 
mouse,  and  the  birds  of  the  air  were  as  familiar  to  his  young 
mind,  as  the  plavful  gambols  of  his  maltese  kitten.  His  childish 
pranks  were  creative  of  great  amusement.  lie  was  a  funny  sight, 
"when  stealing  otf  to  the  library,  you  might  see  him  seated  in 
grandpa's  large  arm-chair,  spectacles  on  his  little  face,  and  reading 
off,  in  his  way,  most  grandiloquently  from  some  huge  folio. 

Many  a  dark  hour  of  the  saddened  household  was  cheered  by 
the  playful  chattering  of  Willie  and  Nelly.  The  light  of  their 
sunny  smiles  was  the  rainbow  of  hope  and  promise  upon  a  sky, 
where  darkest  clouds  had  gathered,  and  the  tempest  wrought  its 
desolation. 

Louise  and  Blanche  mingled  but  little  in  general  society,  and 
ever  found  home,  with  its  calm,  quiet  joys,  most  congenial  to  their 
feelings.  Indeed  it  required  great  effort  to  induce  them  to  return 
the  civilities  extended  them  by  their  neighbors,  having,  from  incli- 
nation and  habit,  narrowed"  all  their  wishes  down  to  the  pleasures, 
which  quietly  nestled  'neath  their  own  roof. 

Mr.  Carneal,  a  wealthy  planter,  had  been  educated  at  the  same 
college  with  Burns,  and  kindred  tastes  and  pursuits  had  created  a 
strong  friendship  between  them.  And  now  that  his  early  and 
intimate  associate  was  domesticated  at  Oak  Lawn,  Carneal  became 
a  frequent,  and  welcome  guest  in  that  hospitable  mansion.  He  had 
ever  been  a  great  admirer  of  Louise,  her  frank  and  dignified  man- 
ners, her  great  love  for  literature,  and  her  graceful  and  elegan* 
convea-sation  had  quite  enchanted  him.     His  noble  and  generous 


212  woman's   f  a  I  t  u 

disposition  would  not  permit  him  to  enter  the  lists  with  the  many 
champions,  who  would  fain  shiver  a  lance  in  a  contest  for  such  a 
prize,  for  Burns  had  confided  to  him  the  secret  of  his  own  pas- 
sion. 

But  when  the  heart  of  the  fair  one  had  been  won,  often  did  his 
friend  rally  him  with  the  wish  that  they  might  yet  be  brothers 
indeed,  as  no  one  could  know,  and  resist  the  fascination  of  the 
sister  of  her,  who  had  made  him  the  happiest  of  mortals. 

But  Carneal  as  frankly  told  him,  "  No  one  appreciates  more 
highly  than  I  do,  the  singular  beauty,  the  captivating  manners  and 
conversation  of  Miss  Blanche,  but  two  strong  objections  would 
prevent  my  becoming  a  lover :  first,  that  her  coquetry,  it  seems 
to  me,  so  delights  in  conquest,  that  one  could  never  even  give  a 
Yankee  guess,  as  to  the  chance  of  success,  and  in  the  second  place, 
if  she  was  won,  she  would  never  do  for  a  planter's  wife.  She  has 
a  little  too  much  of  the  French  taste,  I  suspect,  in  her  composition. 
She  might  submit,  perhaps,  from  prudential  considerations  to  be  a 
wife ',  but  to  be  a  wife  without  a  lover,  to  be  tied  irrevocably,  and 
entirely  to  one  heart,  would  be  a  decree  fatal  to  her  dream  of 
happiness. 

"  No,  no,  I  have  seen  a  bird,"  said  he,  "  of  exquisite  plumage 
and  of  sweetest  song  taken  from  the  wild  wood,  and  imprisoned  in 
a  most  beautiful  cage,  with  seed  and  water  in  abundance,  and  on 
the  morrow,  it  lay  cold  and  stiff,  for  it  had  beaten  out  its  life 
against  the  bars,  even  while  its  entamed  mate  was  singing  its 
most  enchanting  minstrelsy.  I  am  all  too  happy,  in  visiting  at 
the  hospitable  home  of  Mr.  Lefort,  and  when  my  services  are  in 
any  way  useful,  it  will  in  some  sort  repay  the  civilities,  so  gene- 
rously extended  to  me." 

Carneal  had,  for  years,  been  upon  the  most  intimate  footing 
with  the  family.  He  had  seen  the  great  changes  which  had  been 
wrought  in  the  character  and  habits  of  Blanche  ;  had  beheld  her 
a  ministering  angel,  when  pestilence  was  spreading  consternation 


A    TALE    OF    SOUTHERN     LIFE.  213 

and  death  througli  their  hitherto  happy  hamlet,  and  over  their 
plantations.  He  had  been  a  frequent,  almost  daily  visitor  at  Oak 
Lawn,  to  soften,  if  it  might  be,  the  sorrow  of  its  inmates,  when 
the  destroyer  struck  at  tlie  fairest,  because  the  ripest  fruit,  upon 
that  clustering  bough.  And  while  he  had  seen  the  father,  usually 
so  calm  and  collected,  and  the  daughter,  so  shielded  by  her 
religion  and  the  idolizing  love  of  her  husband,  struck  down  by 
the  terrible  blow,  he  was  utterly  amazed  that  Blanche,  who  had 
so  doatingly  loved  her  mother,  whose  happiness  seemed  to  be 
bound  up  in  her  existence,  Blanche,  once  so  gay,  so  volatile,  so 
dependent,  could  regard  the  whole  dark  scene  before  her,  as  one 
■which  truest  love,  and  loftiest  wisdom  had  planned  and  perfected. 
He  had  seen  her,  while  her  own  heart  seemed  breaking,  in  the 
desolation  and  woe  around  her,  cheering  those,  who  had  once 
regarded  her  as  the  delicate  flower,  which  the  winds  of  heaven 
must  not  visit  too  roughly.  Her  beauty  had  now  assumed  a  new 
charm  in  his  eye ;  the  strength  and  powers  of  her  mind  asto- 
nished him,  and  the  sweetness  and  purity  of  her  heart  had  taken 
captive  his  whole  affections. 

Yet,  as  this  is  but  one  of  those  episodes,  which  occur  in  every- 
day life,  and  which  transiently  crossed  the  path  of  our  narrative, 
we  must  not  dwell  upon  it.  Suffice  it  to  say,  that  the  attentions 
of  Carneal  could  not  longer  be  mistaken  for  those  offices  of 
friendship  which  had  hitherto  marked  his  conduct. 

Blanche  saw,  with  deep  regret,  that  he  was  nourishing  a  senti- 
ment, which  she  could  never  reciprocate.  She  had  regarded  him 
almost  in  the  light  of  a  brother,  he  had  so  long  and  so  intimately 
visited  the  family ;  he  had  gained  her  strongest  friendship,  by 
the  interest  he  had  ever  manifested  for,  and  by  the  many  acts 
of  kindness,  which  he  had  extended  to  them.  She  had  the 
highest  regard  for  his  character.  Blanche  would,  if  possible, 
keep  the  secret  to  herself;  she  knew  the  high  estimation  in  which 
he  was  held  by  her  father,  and  the  long  and  warm  friendship 


214  WOMAN'S     FAITH. 

whicli  existed  between  Burns  and  Carneal.  She  felt  confident 
that  she  would  be  strongly  pressed  to  accept  his  preferred  hand, 
and  that  she  could  not  give  any  satisfactory  reason  for  the  rejec- 
tion of  one,  who  was  every  way  worthy  of  her.  She  avoided,  as 
far  as  possible,  all  meetings  with  him,  except  in  the  presence  of 
others,  and  she  employed  that  skill,  which  we  have  before  exem- 
plified in  her,  in  warding  oil'  all  conversations  which  might  lead 
to  a  direct  proposal. 

This,  she  felt  great  confidence,  she  might  succeed  in,  but  she 
feared  he  would  ask  leave  of  the  father,  to  pay  his  addresses  to 
the  daughter.  This  was  the  consummation  to  be,  if  possible, 
prevented. 

It  was  amusing  to  listen  to  her  discussions  upon  the  beauty  and 
excellence  of  Platonic  affection,  upon  the  charms  of  friendship, 
upon  the  pure,  refined  love  of  a  brother.  No  dross  of  passion  to 
alloy  the  pure  gold  of  the  heart ;  no  fire  of  jealousy  to  bum  up 
!he  cherished  delights  of  the  soul. 

But  it  was  then,  as  now,  and  ever  will  be,  that  the  obstacles 
thrown  in  the  way  of  love,  make  it  all  the  more  intense ;  floods 
cannot  drown  it,  and  the  fortress  built  up  by  female  hands,  how- 
ever ingenious,  will  bo  assailed,  whatever  outposts  may  be 
stationed  to  guard  it. 

Carneal  feared  that  there  might  be  unwillingness  on  the  part  of 
Mr.  Lefort,  now  that  he  had  been  so  sadly  bereaved,  that  Blanche 
should,  by  marriage,  be  more  separated  from  him.  He  knew  that 
she  was  now  his  constant  companion.  She  accojnpanied  him  in 
his  walks  and  rides ;  amused  him  in  the  library,  by  reading  or 
conversation ;  while  the  sweet,  yet  melancholy  hour  of  twilight 
was  gladdened  by  the  charms  of  music. 

He  was  not  surprised  that  the  father  should  highly  prize  such 
a  daughter,  and  that  he  would,  if  possible,  retain  her  for  his  own 
solace  and  amusement.  There,  he  imagined,  was  the  danger  to 
be  feared,  tbe  difficulty  to  be  overcome. 


A   TALE     OF     SOUTHERN     LIFE.  215 

Cameal  was  handsome,  his  manners  elegant  and  engaging;  pos- 
sessed of  those  accomplishments,  which  high  birth,  education, 
and  foreign  travel  ever  bestow  ;  generous  and  noble  in  his  nature, 
and  with  almost  unbounded  wealth,  he  had  long  been  the  desire 
of  many  a  loving  mother  for  her  marriageable  daughter.  He 
would  of  course  feel  no  small  degree  of  confidence,  when  he  con- 
cluded to  ask  the  acceptance  of  all  he  could  offer,  with  his  heart's 
best  treasure,  by  any  lady  of  his  acquaintance. 

He  wrote  in  a  most  complimentary  strain  to  Mr.  Lefort,  pray- 
ing permission  to  seek  an  alliance  with  a  family,  for  whom  he 
entertained  the  highest  friendship  and  regard,  through  a  daughter, 
whose  grace  of  person  and  manner,  whose  qualities  of  heart  and 
mind,  were  unrivalled.  He  remarked  that  he  was  deeply  sensible 
of  the  preciousness  of  the  treasure  he  coveted,  but  that  he  should 
hope  not  to  take  it  all  away,  when  he  added  to  the  love  of  the 
daughter,  the  devotion  and  deep  regard  of  her  husband. 

The  customary  visit  of  Carneal  was  not  repeated  for  a  day  or 
two,  and  the  brow  of  her  father,  Blanche  saw,  was  clouded  with 
some  dark,  unwelcome  reflections.  Again  and  again  had  Mr. 
Lefort  perused  the  letter  containing  a  proposal  for  the  hand  of  his 
daughter.  The  offer  was  eligible.  Carneal  was  gifted  with  all 
those  accomplishments,  which  would  win  the  love  and  respect 
of  a  wife;  he  had  wealth,  and,  more  than  all,  he  possessed 
that  nobleness  of  soul,  that  generosity  and  goodness  of  heart,  to 
which  he  might  safely  commit  the  happiness  and  welfare  of  his 
daughter. 

My  unwillingness  to  give  her  up  is  naught  but  selfishness.  ] 
will  hesitate  no  longer.  It  may  be  that  the  love  of  Carneal  will 
restore  that  full  tide  of  happiness  which  was  hers,  when  Blanche 
believed  that  she  possessed  the  unchanging  love  of  Charles  Graf 
ton.  I  will  at  once  show  her  the  letter,  and  advise  her  acceptance 
of  the  proposal. 

Such  were  the  reflections  of  Lefort  an  hour  before  tea ;  and  now 


216  woman's    faith. 

as  he  joined  his  family  at  that  pleasant  meal,  he  seemed  once 
more  cheerful  and  happy.  As  usual,  he  asked  Blanche  to  sing, 
and  think  you  it  was  unintentional,  that  that  she  selected  a 
plaintive  ballad,  descriptive  of  the  sadness  of  the  household,  when 
its  most  cherished  object  had  been  sought  and  won,  and  was  now 
taken  for  ever  from  the  fond  embrace  of  the  desolate  father,  whose 
staff  she  was  in  his  declining  years  ?  It  had  the  effect  designed 
in  degree  but  not  in  extent. 

"  Blanche,"  said  her  father,  "  let  us  take  a  stroll  through  the 
grounds,  the  evening  air  is  delightful,  and  Louise  will  not  miss  ua^ 
engaged  as  she  will  be  with  Willie  and  Nelly." 


A.    TALE    OF    SOUTHERN     LIFE.  217 


CHAPTER    XLIV 

How  true  are  the  instincts  of  the  female  heart.  How  quick 
and  correct  are  its  readings.  A  tone  of  voice,  the  expression  of 
the  eye,  and  often  even  a  gesture  of  the  hand  is  to  the  practised 
eye  of  woman,  as  articulate  of  sentiment  and  meaning,  as  aptest 
words.  Blanche  needed  not  language  to  tell  her  the  object  of  the 
walk.  She  had  read  and  deciphered  the  anxiety  depicted  upon 
her  father's  face,  and  she  almost  trembled  at  the  calm  expression, 
which  had  taken  the  place  of  recent  anxiety.  She  knew  too  well 
the  fervor  and  strength  of  his  affection  to  fear  that  he  would 
seek  to  coerce  her  inclination,  but  she  dreaded  to  differ  with  him 
upon  a  question  so  important.  She  was  perfectly  assured  that  he 
would  regard  it  as  a  match  in  all  respects  desirable,  and  it  might 
be  to  him  a  great  disappointment  if  she  declined  it. 

Half  jokingly,  he  remarked  to  Blanche,  "  that  Mr.  Cameal  had 
absented  himself  somewhat  strangely  of  late.  Has  he  not  found 
in  some  of  our  fascinating  neighbors  an  interest,  which  no  one 
lays  claim  to  here?  But,  all  badinage  apart,  dear  Blanche,  I 
asked  your  presence  now  specially  to  inform  you,  that  I  had 
received  a  letter  from  Mr.  CarneaJ,  desiring  my  approval  of  his 
soliciting  your  hand  in  marriage.  What  answer  shall  I  write 
him?" 

"  I  do  not  see,"  naively  replied  Blanche,  "  how  you  could  spare 
me  in  your  walks  and  in  the  library.  Husbands,  you  know,  are 
very  exacting,  and  all  the  attentions  of  the  most  devoted  wife  are 
Bcarcely  sufficient  to  satisfy  their  exorbitant  demand." 

10 


^8  woman's     FAITH. 

"  I  do  not  think,"  said  lier  father,  "  that  I  have  the  right  to  con- 
sult my  own  wishes  in  this  matter.  Your  happiness  has  ever  been, 
and  ever  must  be,  the  study  of  my  life.  It  has  cost  me  one  of 
the  keenest  struggles  in  all  my  experience  to  gain  my  consent  to 
acquiesce  in  the  wishes  of  Mr.  Carneal.  He  is,  in  every  respect, 
the  gentleman  I  would  have  selected  for  you.  He  is  disinterested 
and  true ;  manly  and  noble,  are  all  the  qualities  of  his  head  and 
heart.  He  is  free  from  all  the  frivolity  and  weaknesses  of  youth. 
He  has  known  you  intimately  from  your  girlhood,  and  now  loves 
you  warmly  and  truly.  His  elegant  bearing,  his  superior  accom- 
plishments, and  his  great  wealth  make  him  a  match  such  as  no 
lady  would  decline.  But  little  is  left  to  my  share  of  life.  Happy 
should  I  be  to  bid  adieu  to  earth,  whenever  the  summons  comes, 
were  I  assured  that  you  were  the  wife  of  Mr.  Carneal.  With  two 
such  sons-in-law,  as  himself  and  William,  happily  should  I  pass 
the  little  remnant  of  existence  that  may  yet  be  mine.  But,  pro- 
mise me,  Blanche,  that  Oak  Lawn  shall  still  be  your  home ;  the 
generosity  of  such  a  lover  would  not  refuse  to  make  the  experi- 
ment, and,  assured  am  I,  that  our  life  would  be  so  agreeable,  he 
would  not  incline  to  change  it  after  a  fair  trial." 

The  heart  of  poor  Blanche  was  now  assailed  with  variant  and 
intensest  emotions.  It  turned  out  as  she  had  expected.  Carneal 
had  made  the  proposal  to  her  father,  and  it  met  his  hearty  and 
decided  approval.  The  arguments  in  his  favor  were  irresistible 
and  unanswerable.  More  than  this,  it  was  the  strong  desire  of 
his  heart  that  she  should  coincide  with  his  wishes.  Great  were 
her  struggles  to  decide  upon  the  best  mode  of  procedure. 

The  Blanche  of  former  years,  before  trials  and  suffering  had 
^ven  strength  and  maturity  to  her  character,  would  have  laugh- 
ingly rejected  or  accepted,  as  the  whim  or  caprice  of  the  moihent 
might  dictate,  the  most  ardent  and  the  most  desirable  of  lovers; 
but  her  whole  nature  was  now  changed.  High  principle  governed 
all  her  conduct,  and  altbougli  she  was  ever  disinterested,  she  wa« 


A     TALE     OF     BOUTHEKN     LIFE.  219 

not  once  as  considerate  of  the  feelings  of  others.  These  and  many 
other  reflections  passed  more  rapidly  through  her  mind  than  we 
have  taken  time  to  transcribe  them.  How  could  the  conflict  which 
was  going  on  in  her  mind  be  resolved  ?  "  "Well,  the  letter,  father," 
said  Blanche.  "  You  were  to  show  it  to  me ;  the  object  of  your 
walk  was,  you  said,  to  know  how  to  answer  it.  Could  I  not  better 
tell  you  bow  to  shape  the  reply  were  I  to  glance  over  its  con- 
tents?" 

"But  you  know  its  purport,  and  its  object,"  said  her 
father. 

"  Yes,  or  rather  I  may  imagine  the  design  of  the  writer,"  said 
Blanche.  "  And  yet  it  might  require  a  careful  perusal  before  the 
most  skilled  in  epistolary  correspondence  should  decide  upon  the 
precise  terms  of  an  answer." 

"  Blanche,  it  seems  to  me  you  are  playing  the  part  of  the  skill- 
ful swordsman.  You  cut  and  thrust,"  continued  Mr.  Lefort,  "  with 
no  very  apparent  intention  of  doing  harm,  while  you  are  parrying 
oflF,  as  if  to  gain  some  decided  advantage." 

"  With  one  who  had  been  trained  in  the  accomplished  court  of 
Louis  XVI.,"  said  Blanche,  "  an  adept  in  the  use  of  the  small  sword, 
it  would  become  me  to  be  wary,  indeed,  but  to  drop  the  simile, 
and  to  show  you  that  I  have  no  such  object  as  you  mistrust,  will 
you  let  me  advise  the  course  which  you  should  adopt  for  the 
settlement  of  the  question  you  have  propounded  ?" 

"  Certainly,"  said  Mr.  Lefort.  "  You  are  the  most  deeply  inter 
ested,  and  your  judgment  and  prudence  may  safely  be  trusted. 
You  are  too  well  assured  of  my  love,  to  suppose  for  a  moment  I 
should  insist  upon  your  adoption  of  my  views,  if  I  thought  for  an 
instant,  the  step  might  for  any  reason  jeopardize  your  happiness. 
I  will  give  you  the  letter,  and  in  the  library,  when  your  maiden 
modesty  shall  be  satisfied  that  it  is  not  a  proposition  to  purchase 
your  pony,  or  to  sell  me  a  yoke  of  oxen,  you  may   write  the 


220  woman's   faith. 

reply,  and  like  a  good  little  school-boy,  I  will  copy  it,  verbatim 
et  puiictuatim,  and  send  it  as  directed.  And  so  we  will  retire  to 
the  house ;  Louise  will  feel  quite  neglected,  I  fear,  in  our  long 
absence  from  her." 

"  Oh,  no,  she  had  in  her  basket  one  of  her  husband's  letters 
to  read  over  for  the  twentieth  time,  not  to  say  a  word  for  the 
interesting  speech  of  the  Hon.  Mr.  Somebody,  upon  the  tariff. 
She  has  occupation  enough  to  busy  the  most  industrious  lady  in 
the  land." 

"  Well,  father,"  said  Louise,  upon  his  return  from  their  walk, 
"  you  and  Blanche  are  becoming  quite  romantic  in  your  prome- 
nades by  moonlight.  You  must  have  some  most  interesting 
matter  in  hand,  that  you  trespass  upon  the  witching  hour  of 
night,  with  all  a  lover's  eagerness.  Pray,  would  you  not  admit 
another  into  your  counsels  ?" 

"  Oh,  yes,  Louise,  father  will  freely  inform  you  upon  our  impor- 
tant discussions.  And  if  they  should  perchance  be  chiefly  con- 
necte»l  with  governmental  affairs,  or  with  members  of  Congress, 
he  will  find  in  you,  I  dare  say,  a  most  ready  listener.  So  as  I 
have  a  little  headache,  you  will  excuse  me,  if  I  retire  somewhat 
early  to  my  chamber." 

Supposing  that  there  was  no  reason  for  secrecy,  Lefort  inti- 
mated to  Louise,  the  purport  of  the  letter,  that  she  had  handed 
him  from  Carneal,  and  she  had  divined  the  object  he  had  in  view, 
when  he  invited  Blanche  to  the  walk,  an  account  of  which  we 
have  just  now  presented  to  our  readers.  To  the  eager  questions 
of  Louise,  as  to  the  decision  of  Blanche  upon  the  proposal  so 
interesting  to  her,  her  father  gave  her  as  full  an  account  as  his 
own  information  permitted. 

"  Did  she  not  at  once  decide  to  accept  an  ofier  so  eligible  ?" 
said  Louise.  "  I  hardly  know  how  any  young  lady  could  help 
falling  in  love  with  a  man   so  handsome,  so  fascinating  in  his 


A    TALE    OF    80UTHEKN    LIFE.  221 

manners,  so  intelligent,  so  thoroughly  informed  upon  all  subjects, 
as  is  Mr.  Carneal.  He  is  my  beau  ideal  of  a  well-bred,  accom- 
plished gentleman.  Oh,  I  am  sure  she  only  desires  to  couch  her 
acceptance  in  the  modest  terms  becoming  her  maidenly  reserve." 

"  On  the  contrary,  I  more  than  suspect  she  is  studying  some 
plan  by  which  she  may  decline  the  proffer,  desirable  as  you  may 
deem  it.  She  will  act  upon  her  own  high  impulses.  Years  have 
added  force  to  the  pertinacity,  with  which  she  clings  to  opinions 
"which  she  has  deliberately  formed,  and  I  believe  she  would  perish 
upon  the  rack,  before  she  would  yield  against  her  own  sense  of 
right  and  duty.  Yielding  and  most  tractable  in  minor  afiairs,  in 
mere  matters  of  taste,  or  fancy,  or  inclination,  I  have  never  known 
her  swerve  but  a  hair's-breadth  from  the  line  of  right  as  she 
understood  it,  whatever  arguments  or  persuasions  might  be 
addressed  to  her.  On  this  fact  is  predicated  my  opinion  of  what 
will,  or  may  be,  her  decision  upon  the  subject  now  before  her.  I 
could  have  wished  that  she  would  have  clearly  seen  her  own 
happiness  promoted  by  a  marriage  with  Mr.  Carneal.  I  said 
nothing  to  her  about  the  large  and  ruinous  sums  for  which  your 
husband  and  myself  have  been  involved,  for  Mr.  S.,  and  that  the 
control  of  the  whole  thing  was  with  Mr.  Carneal.  William  writes 
me,  tliat  if  Carneal  concludes  to  make  the  large  advance  requisite, 
it  will  be,  in  the  end,  a  safe  and  good  investment,  and  all  our  per- 
plexities will  be  disposed  of.  If  not,  the  amount  is  so  large,  no 
one  can  be  found  to  lend  the  required  sum,  and  Mr.  S.,  must 
inevitably  fail,  and  bring  down  with  him  William  and  myself.  I 
wish  the  ofier  of  Mr.  Carneal  had  been  deferred.  It  places  us  in 
circumstances,  the  most  embarrassing." 

"  I  will  at  once  see  Blanche,"  said  Louise,  "  it  is  but  right  that 
she  should  be  informed  upon  the  importance  of  her  decision,  for 
it  might  be  that  mere  caprice,  or  some  slight  preference  would 
guide  her  conduct.  She  might  fancy  that  a  single  life  would  be 
happy  enough,  and  as  no  interest  but  her  own  were  to  be  con- 


222  woman's    faith. 

suited,  that  a  feather's  weight  would  turn  the  scale  one  way  or  the 
other." 

"  Urge  her  not,  my  daughter,  to  sacrifice  her  own  happiness  to 
promote  our  comfort  Providence  will  provide  for  us  a  way  of 
escape,  if  by  it  our  real  good  is  to  be  advanced. 


A     TALE    OF    SOUTHEKN     LIFE.  223 


CHAPTER    :5^LV. 

We  will  now  follow  to  her  chamber,  our  heroine,  whose  already 
overwrought  sensibilities  were  to  be  taxed  with  new  and  severe 
trials.  Her  throbbing  temples  told  the  force  of  the  excitement 
that  was  preying  upon  her  mind.  Deeply  had  she  regretted 
.the  step  that  Carneal  had  taken.  She  now  was  pained  that  she 
had  not  suffered  him  to  learn  her  views  and  feelings,  without  the 
knowledge  of  any  one  but  themselves.  Her  father's  wishes  were 
strong  and  decided.  He  had  come  to  the  resolution  of  giving  up 
his  daughter,  through  suffering  the  most  intense.  His  conduct 
had  been  so  disinterested  and  kind,  his  love  for  hrer  so  naarked, 
and  so  far  seeing,  and  his  peace  of  mind  as  affected  by  her  future 
situation,  so  dependent  upon  her  choice,  that  she  at  times  felt,  as 
if  duty  demanded  of  her  a  .sacrifice  of  all  her  own  partialities, 
indeed  her  own  happiness,  and  she  was  ready  to  make  it.  Self, 
she  could  immolate  upon  the  altar  of  parental  love. 

Her  sister  had  just  joined  her,  and  when  she  found  that 
Blanche  was  lending  a  listless  ear  to  her  glowing  descriptions  of 
the  singular  personal  attractions  of  Carneal,  that  she  was  not  to 
be  won  by  the  splendid  bauble  of  wealth  and  position,  that  her 
pride  could  not  be  awakened  by  the  assurance  that  her  attractions 
had  gained  a  conquest,  gratifying  to  the  natural  self-esteem  and 
ambition  of  her  sex,  she  then  alluded  to  the  great  wealth  of  Mr. 
Carneal. 

"  Think  you,"  interrupted  Blanche,  "  that  I  could  be  bought  fox 
so  many  dollars  and  cents  ?     Could  you  deem  me  so  unworthy  of 


224  woman's   faith. 

one  so  noble,  and  so  generous,  as  you  have  described  Mr.  Carneal 
to  be,  and  you  have  not  told  me  half  his  worth,  for  I  have  seen 
him  pour  out  his  treasure,  like  water,  at  the  call  of  suflfering 
humanity;  could  you,  my  dear  sister,  suspect  me  guilty  of  such 
heartlessness,  of  such  mercenary  motives,  that  I  would  accept  the 
heart  and  hand  of  him,  so  proud,  so  peerless,  merely  that  I  might 
gain  the  key  which  unlocks  his  vast  treasures  ?" 

"  No,  you  misapprehend  me,  Blanche.  I  was  but  appealing  to 
your  generosity.  I  was  about  to  tell  you  that  the  whole  fortune 
of  my  father,  now  aged  and  broken,  of  the  husband  of  your  sister, 
upon  whom  are  dependent  the  welfare  of  your  own  little  Willie 
and  dear  Nelly,  are  hanging  upon  your  decision.  Could  you  not 
sacrifice  " — 

"Sacrifice!"  interrupted  Blanche.  "What  have  I  of  happiness, 
what  is  there  to  me  in  all  the  future,  that  I  would  not  offer  to 
avert  but  one  hour  of  trouble  from  the  heart  of  him,  whose  happi- 
ness is  more  precious  to  me  than  life  itself?  To  see  him  whom  I 
love  so  fondly,  when  time  has  furrowed  that  noble  brow  with  care, 
and  sorrow  and  disappointment  have  dimmed  his  eye,  deprived 
of  the  comforts  now  so  necessary  to  him,  forced  by  the  iron  hand 
of  stern  necessity  once  more  to  abandon  home,  with  no  wife  to 
solace  him,  the  energies  and  hopes  of  manhood  extinguished  by 
the  frost  of  age,  could  I  deliberately  count  the  cost,  when  I  had 
the  ability  to  save  ?" 

"  Oh,  you  will  then,"  said  Louise,  "  rescue  our  dear  and  only 
parent,  from  the  ruin  which  is  impending  over  him.  How  surely 
his  gray  hairs  would  be  hurried  to  an  untimely  grave,  were  these 
disasters,  now  so  threatening,  to  come  upon  him.  Even  while  the 
fire  of  youth  and  hope  was  warm  and  glowing  at  his  heart,  and 
the  prospect  of  relief  was  bright  before  us,  I  have  seen  him,  when 
exiled  from  our  early  home,  so  weighed  down  with  sad  and  dark 
reflections,  that  but  for  the  wise  counsels,  the  cheerful,  loving 
words  of  our  dear  sainted  mother,  he  would  have  given  up  in 


A    TALE    OF    SOUTHERN    LIFE.  225 

despair,  or  rushed  wildly  upon  destruction,  in  battling  for  the 
rights  which  had  been  wrested  from  him.  You  will,  I  know,  dear 
sister,  yisld  all  preferences,  and  at  once  decide  the  fate  of  those 
you  love  so  dearly,  by  determining  to  accept  the  proposals  of  Mr. 
Carneal." 

"Never,  never,  though  it  involve  the  present  weal  of  those, 
dearer  to  me  than  words  can  tell.  Were  mine  but  the  offering 
of  life,  of  happiness,  with  what  joy  would  I  make  it ;  but  to  know- 
ingly sacrifice  principle,  honor,  truth — to  consent  to  be  his  wife, 
with  at  least  the  implied  understanding,  that  all  the  love  and  affec- 
tion which  prompted  the  offer  are  reciprocated ;  with  the  smile  of 
truth  upon  my  lips,  and  the  treachery  of  falsehood  in  my  heart, 
thus  to  meet  the  noble  ingenuousness,  written  upon  the  fair  brow 
of  Henry  Carneal,  would  still  the  pulsations  of  my  heart  for  ever !" 
Louise  had  no  answer  foV  sentiments  so  true,  so  just,  and  the 
expression  which  glowed  upon  the  face  of  Blanche  so  heightened 
the  effect  of  the  language,  gave  such  vividness  and  force  to  her 
remarks,  that  tears  were  the  only  reply.  Never  did  Louise  so  love 
her  sister  as  at  this  moment.  Never  had  she  witnessed  the  exhibi- 
tion of  such  exalted  virtue,  burning  up  in  the  crucible  of  truth, 
eveiy  selfish  and  unworthy  action. 

Dark  as  seemed  the  prospect  before  her,  Blanche  saw  but  one 
path  in  which  she  might  walk.  It  was  irradiated  by  the  light  of 
principle.  She  would  make  no  compromises,  which  might  tarnish 
the  brightness,  or  dim  the  lustre  of  the  jewel  in  the  crown  of 
moral  rectitude. 

"  O  could  I,"  she  said  to  herself,  "  have  listened  to  the  voice  of 
expediency,  and,  with  the  deep  abiding  consciousness,  that  all  my 
feelings  revolted  at  the  bare  idea  of  marriage  with  any  one  but 
him,  whom  I  have  loved  so  blindly,  and  yet  so  fatally,  could  I, 
notwithstanding  all  this,  have  accepted  the  hand  of  Carneal,  I 
should  not  only  have  rendered  myself  miserable,  but  far  worse, 
I  should  have  blighted  the  hopes,  and  for  ever  marred  the  bliss  of 

10* 


WOMAN    S    FAITH. 

him  who  had  loved  me  for  my  truth.  I  will  be  frank  and  fear- 
less ;  with  a  womanly  dignity  I  will  tell  him  all  my  struggles,  and 
sure  I  am,  that  he  has  heart  enough  to  appreciate  my  conduct, 
honor  sufficient  to  be  the  safe  repository  of  such  delicate  and  con- 
fidential disclosures. 

With  this  resolution,  and  with  the  peace,  which  implicitly  trusts 
in  the  eventual,  happy  results  of  virtuous  conduct,  sweet  and  sooth- 
ing sleep  chased  care  and  sorrow  from  the  heart  of  Blanche,  and 
the  dawn  of  morning  found  her  refreshed  and  happy,  prepared 
for  whatever  might  await  her. 


ATALK     OF     SOUTH  EEN     LIFE.  227 


CHAPTER    XLVI. 

Breakfast  being  over,  Louise  purposely  left  Blanche  with  her 
father.  She  commenced  conversation  by  desiring  him  to  ask  for 
her,  as  soon  as  might  be  convenient,  a  personal  interview  with  Mr. 
Carneal.  I  desire  to  explain  truly  to  him  the  reasons  which  guide 
my  conduct.  He  will  then  feel  no  wounding  of  self-esteem,  and 
there  will  be  no  diminution  of  friendship." 

*'  I  prefer  it  should  be  so,  Blanche.  Mr.  Carneal  is  a  man  of 
honor  and  of  worth.  I  value  highly  his  friendship,  and  should 
greatly  regret  that  he  might  think  he  had  just  cause  to  withhold 
it.  He  will  soon  be  here,  and  I  shall  absent  myself  that  I  may 
not  for  a  moment  prevent  a  meeting,  which  will  terminate  this 
unhappy  affair." 

Blanche  thought  that  she  had  so  schooled  her  feelings,  that  she 
was  prepared  for  this  trying  interview,  and  yet,  when  she  saw  the 
stately  and  handsome  form  of  Carneal,  as  he  rode  up  the  avenue, 
her  heart  beat  violently  ;  for  an  instant  she  entirely  lost  her  self- 
possession.  Moments  seemed  an  age,  and  it  required  all  the  force 
of*her  character  to  call  back  the  powers  of  her  mind.  A  soft  blush 
mantled  the  pale  cheek  of  Blanche,  and  a  slight  tremor  marked 
her  movements,  as  she  advanced  to  welcome  Carneal.  She  felt 
that  her  voice  was  betraying  her  emotions,  as  she  could  scarce 
control  its  utterances.  Her  embarrassment  was  greatly  increased, 
as  she  saw  the  elation  of  feeling  stamped  upon  the  brow,  and  the 
hope  kindling  the  eye  of  her  impassioned  lover.  With  true 
womanly  discernment,  she  perceived  that  Carneal  had  misconstrued 


228  woman's   faith. 

the  note  of  her  father ;  that  he  was  evidently  expecting  to  hear 
from  her  lips  the  answer  which  his  love  desired  to  the  proposal  he 
had  made.  ^ 

"  I  was  most  happy,  Miss  Lefort,  in  learning  from  your  father's 
note  this  morning,  that  I  had  his  approval  in  the  offer  of  my  heart 
to  his  charming  daughter,  and  I  have  not  lost  a  moment  in  obey- 
ing your  summons  to  make  my  appearance  at  Oak  Lawn.  I  came 
to  express  the  solicitude  I  hare  felt  for  the  last  twenty-four  hours, 
while  I  have  been  compelled  to  remain  in  doubt  and  uncertainty, 
as  to  the  result  of  my  request  to  your  father.  Long  have  I  known 
and  admired  you,  and  as  J  have  acquired  a  truer  insight  of  your 
character,  as  it  has  been  exemplified  in  all  the  relations  of  life,  my 
admiration  has  ripened  into  the  warmest  love.  May  I  hope  that 
such  a  sentiment  meets  ^,  kindred  feeling  in  your  own  heart  ?" 

Blanche  would  have  interrupted  him,  but  the  emotions  of  her 
heart  quite  overpowered  her.  After  a  moment's  pause,  she 
replied, 

"  I  am  truly  gratefuj  for  the  approval  my  conduct  has  met  in 
your  judgment.  I  know  no  one  for  whom  I  entertain  a  truer 
respect,  whose  friendship  and  regard  I  hold  in  higher  estimation 
than  your  own.  Our  long  and  intimate  acquaintanceship,  the 
unnumbered  oflaces  of  kindness,  have  awakened  within  me,  may  I 
say  it,  the  love  of  a  sister.  In  our  household  you  have  supplied  the 
place  of  a  brother.  How  can  I  find  words  to  tell  my  deep  regret 
that  you  were  ever  induced  to  make  the  proposal  of  this  morning, 
since  I  am  compelled  to  decline  it.  Mr.  Carneal,  at  the  risk  even 
of  your  respect,  I  must  be  frank  and  explicit.  Your  high  charac- 
ter demands  it.  The  regard  I  feel  for  you,  the  warm  and  strong 
friendship  you  have  ever  manifested  for  each  member  of  our 
family,  requires  that  I  should,  with^  you,  have  no  concealment. 
Were  it  in  my  power  to  have  reciprocated  the  sentiment  which 
induced  your  ofiier,  had  not  the  freshness  of  my  heart  faded  under 
the  blighting  frosta  of  disappointment ;  had  not  the  dream  of  love 


A    TALE     OF     SOUTHEKN     LIFE.  229 

■o  vital  to  the  happiness  of  wedded  life,  been  doomed  to  perish 
for  ever ;  had  yours  been  my  earliest  acquaintance,  I  will  frankly 
tell  you,  that  you  would  have  easily  won  the  devotion  of  my  heart. 
For  you,  I  now  feel,  and  ever  shall,  the  highest  esteem,  and  I  need 
not  tell  you  that  it  is  with  the  deepest  sorrow,  I  am  compelled  to 
refuse  my  acquiescence  in  the  proposal  you  make  me." 

"  But,  Miss  Lefort,  that  disappointment  may  be  healed.  Time 
and  the  devotions  of  a  heart,  all  your  own;  new  scenes,  new  hopes 
will  displace  all  unpleasant  recollections,  and  the  regard  which 
you  have  so  kindly  expressed  for  me  will  ripen  into  love.  I  will 
not  wound  your  feelings  by  further  asking  your  confidence,  but  I 
will  take  all  the  risk.  I  will  accept,  at  present  with  a  heart  so 
blighted,  that  it  hopes  for  no  recovery." 

"  Do  not,  Mr.  Carneal,  press  your  request ;  you  know  me  too 
well  to  doubt  my  sincerity.  I  have  throvvn  off  with  greatest  dif- 
ficulty all  maidenly  reserve,  and  have  trusted  you  with  a  secret 
which  I  have  disclosed  to  no  one  living.  I  thought  it  due  to  your 
friendship  ;  I  would  make  almost  any  sacrifice  to  hold  a  place  in 
your  regard.  To  the  proposals  of  others,  I  have  simply  returned 
polite  refusals.  Rest  assured  that  sooner  than  put  at  imminent 
hazard  the  future  happiness  of  one  in  whom  I  feel  so  deep  an  inte- 
rest, by  an  acceptance  of  the  offer  you  have  made  me,  I  should 
regard  it  as  my  duty  to  suffer  even  the  loss  of  your  friendship. 
Could  I  say  more,  while  manifesting  the  regret  I  feel  in  these 
trying  circumstances  ?  must  I,  Mr.  Carneal,  add  to  the  list  of  trials 
which  have  marked  my  short,  yet  not  uneventful  life,  the  disrup- 
tion of  a  friendship  to  me  of  so  much  value  as  your  own  ?" 

"  No,  no,  Miss  Blanche,  let  me  have  that  place  in  your  heart, 
which  a  brother  might  hold,  and  I  will  yet  be  happy.  I  will,  for 
the  present  at  least,  try  and  forget  this  scene,  so  full  of  disappoint 
ment.  Promise  me  that  I  may  still  hope  for  a  continuance  of  that 
regard,  which  you  have  so  kindly  expressed  for  me."  « 


230  woman's    FAITH. 

"  You  can  never  know,  Mr.  Carneal,  what  a  load  you  have  lifted 
from  my  heart.  The  assurance  that  I  have  not  lost  a  friend,  that 
you  are  to  be  to  us  as  ever,  is  to  me  a  source  of  unmingled  happi- 
ness. May  I  ask  for  a  proof  of  your  friendship  by  dining  with  us, 
enfamille,  and  the  assurance  that  you  will  visit  us  unceremoniously 
as  ever  ?" 

"  Certainly.  But  if  I  should  disfigure  your  snowy  table  by  drop- 
"ping  my  spoon,  or  any  other  faux  pas,  please  attribute  it  to  this 
interview,  and  help  me  out  of  my  difficulty." 

Mr.  Carneal  and  Blanche  met  Mr.  Lefort  upon  his  return  to  the 
house.  A  slight  embarrassment  for  a  moment  was  perceptible,  but, 
by  some  ready  and  playful  remark  of  Blanche,  it  was  at  once 
relieved,  and  in  a  few  moments,  all  appeared  as  if  nothing  unusual 
had  occurred.  Louise  was  surprised  to  see  how  entirely  unchanged 
in  their  conduct  to  each  other  during  dinner,  were  Carneal  and 
her  sister.  There  was  a  little  fluttering  at  her  heart  when  she 
heard  Carneal  tell  her  father  he  would  be  glad  to  see  him  for  a 
few  moments  in  the  library  before  his  departure.  Mr.  Lefort  was 
at  first  slightly  disconcerted,  but  the  frank  and  manly  manner  of 
Carneal,  at  once  banished  all  unpleasant  feeling. 

"  I  have  recently,"  Said  Carneal,  "  received  some  propositions 
from  our  neighbor,  Mr.  S.,  to  join  him  in  a  large  speculation, 
which  seems  to  me  is  a  most  excellent  investment  In  look- 
ing over  the  papers,  I  find  you,  and  my  friend  William  Bums, 
had  aided  S.  in  the  purchase.  I  thought  perhaps  you  might 
have  some  interest,  and  so  would  not  interfere.  He  assured 
me  you  had  not,  that  it  was  a  mere  act  of  friendship  on  your  part. 
I  projii  )se  to  advance  all  the  money  necessary,  and  to  unite  with 
him  in  the  purchase,  if  agreeable  to  you,  and  we  will  then  cancel 
the  notes  which  you  have  signed." 

"  Mr.  S.  told  you  truly,"  replied  Lefort,  "  that  we  signed  for  him 
merely  as  his  security.    We  shall  be  highly  gratified  if  you  ar^ 


A     TALE     OF     SOUTHERN     LIFE.  231 

sure  it  will  be  for  your  interest,  to  do  as  you  propose,  for  we  were 
greatly  apprehensive  of  embarrassment  from  the  want  of  capital  on 
the  part  of  Mr.  S." 

"  I  am  truly  glad  that  while  I  can  subserve  my  own  interest,  I 
can  at  the  same  time  benefit  you.  To-morrow  I  shall  bring  you 
the  notes,  upon  which  your  own,  and  the  name  of  Mr.  Bunls 
appear  as  security." 

Carneal  had  been  so  charmed  by  the  frank  and  honorable  con- 
duct of  Blanche,  felt  so  assured  of  the  high  place  which  he  held 
in  her  regard,  the  value  she  placed  upon  his  own  friendship, 
that  the  bitter  disappointment  of  a  refusal  was  hardly  felt  by  him. 
His  own  pride  of  character  had  not  been  wounded.  He  had  been 
treated  in  so  confidential  a  manner,  the  recesses  of  the  heart, 
■which  he  so  prized  and  coveted,  had  been  so  laid  open  to  his 
inspection,  that  his  deepest  interest  and  sympathy  was  awakened, 
and  now  the  desire  of  soothing  the  secret  sorrows  of  that  young, 
bright  being,  seemed  the  object  of'  his  desire.  Did  not  hope 
whisper  that  in  playing  the  physician  for  that  wounded  spirit,  he 
would  accomplish  the  object  of  his  wishes,  that  like  the  homoeopa- 
thist,  he  would  remove  the  malady  of  his  beautiful  patient,  by  pro- 
ducing another  similar  affection,  of  which  he  should  have  the  easy 
and  entire  control  ? 

After  his  departure,  Lefort  returned  with  a  cheerful  heart  to  the 
society  of  his  daughters.  He  related  to  them  the  object  of  Car- 
neal in  his  private  interview,  and  remarked,  "  to  you  Blanche,  I 
suspect  we  are  indebted  for  this  most  fortunate  escape  from  what 
seemed  inevitable  ruin." 

"  No,  dear  father,  I  never  alluded  to  the  subject  to  which  you 
refer,  in  my  conversation  with  Mr.  Carneal.  All  I  know  is,  that 
we  are  as  good,  if  not  better  friends,  than  we  ever  have  been,  and 
what  we  feared  has  resulted  in  good." 

"  I  know  not  why,  Blanche,"  said  Louise,  "  but  I  felt  an  assur- 
ance when  I  left  you  the  other  evening  that  all  would  be  well, 


232  woman's   faith. 

» 

And  when  my  fears  would  for  a  moment  predominate,  when  my 
apprehensions  would  present  to  my  excited  imagination  a  picture 
of  distress,  and  for  the  instant  banish  sleep  from  my  eyelids,  the 
soft,  sweet  light,  reflected  from  virtuous  conduct,  would  dispel  the 
dark  shadow,  and  in  soothing  slumber  I  forgot  all  dread  of  the 
future." 

"  I  confess,"  said  Blanche,  "  that  your  fears  were  not  greater 
than  my  own.  And  I  saw  no  way  of  escape.  I  fancied  that 
one  small  word  of  mine  would  perhaps,  and  probably,  save  from  the 
greatest  pecuniary  embarrassment  my  father  and  William — or 
seal  their  ruin.  I  did  not  dare  debate  the  question,  what  should 
be  the  line  of  my  conduct.  An  unseen  influence  has  guided  us 
all  aright,  and  taught  us  the  lesson  so  difficult  to  practice,  that  we 
should  never  consider  the  expediency  of  important  action,  until 
we  have  honestly  decided  in  regard  to  its  correctness.  I  am  suie 
that  Mr.  Cameal  was  never  so  true  a  friend  of  ours  as  now.  His 
happiness  has  not  been  jeopardized.  He  has  conferred  upon  us  no 
particular  obligation,  as  he  had  decided,  before  his  interview  with 
me,  to  do  for  his  own  good,  iust  what  father  desired  for  the  pro- 
motion of  his  advantage." 


A.    TALE    OF    SOUTHERN     LIFE.  2cl3 


CHAPTER    XLVII. 

The  overthrow  of  a  republican  form  of  government,  and  the 
restoration  of  monarchy,  was  hailed  with  rapture  by  those,  who 
had  been  long  esiled  from  their  beloved  France.  Some  had  been 
passing  the  long  and  miserable  years  of  absence  in  a  quiet 
obscure  retreat  in  England,  deprived  of  the  luxuries,  the  comforts 
even,  which  their  wealth  and  position  in  their  native  land  had 
given  them.  Others  were  scattered  over  Europe,  suffering  from 
the  keen  pangs  of  penury  and  want,  anxiously  looking  for  the 
approach  of  that  change,  which  would  permit  them  to  return  in 
safety  to  the  homes  they  were  compelled  to  abandon. 

Lefort  was  leading  a  calm,  contented,  and  happy  life  in  his 
adopted  home  in  Louisiana.  The  intelligence  that  the  property 
as  well  as  the  honors  was  restored,  under  the  munificent 
Charles  X.,  to  those,  who  had  been  deprived  of  both  by  the  savage 
ferocity,  which  marked  the  revolutionists  of  France,  reached  him, 
while  peacefully  pursuing  his  unambitious  avocations  upon  the 
banks  of  the  Teche.  How  diflferent  his  life  in  that  quiet,  domestic 
circle,  undisturbed  by  rude  alarms,  or  demoniac  passions,  com 
pared  with  that  feverish  existence  in  Paris,  where  wild  ungovern- 
able desires  ruled  the  busy  hour. 

A  paragraph  in  a  newspaper  might  pile  up  the  gay  streets  of 
the  city  with  barricades,  from  the  shelter  of  which,  a  furious  mob 
would,  with  relentless,  undistinguishable  hate,  destroy  all  that  was 
beautiful,  and  from  the  same  windows,  from  which  a  few  days  pre- 
vious, gay  voices  were  cheering,  and  delicate  hands  were  flinging 


234  woman's    faith. 

bouquets  and  garlands  upon  the  heads  of  that  soldiery,  which  had 
won  immortality  for  France  upon  fields  of  blood  and  carnage, 
were  now  thrown,  upon  the  same  heads,  by  the  same  hands,  missiles 
of  destruction,  even  while  in  discharge  of  a  soldier's  duty,  saving 
their  destroyers  from  sottish  brutality  and  maddening  lust. 

Who  that  had  seen  and  participated  in  the  horrors  of  a  coup 
d'etat,  in  the  city  of  Paris,  would  not  learn  the  instability  of  for- 
tune and  position  ?  Who  would  not  feel  that  he  was  instantly 
liable  to  the  loss  of  more  than  treasure,  that  every  possession 
which  was  dear  to  him,  might,  in  a  moment,  be  ruthlessly  torn 
from  him  by  mere  brute  force  and  lawless  rapacity  ?  Such  were 
the  reflections  of  Lefort,  as  he  daily  perused  the  exciting  accounts 
which  he  received  from  France.  Should  he  risk  the  happiness  of 
his  family,  abandon  this  secure  and  peaceful  abode,  that  he  might 
again  share  the  honors  and  the  dangers  of  rank  and  distinction  in 
his  native  land  ?  What  were  wealth  and  honors  worth,  if  they 
were  to  be  purchased  at  the  imminent  risk  of  the  life  and  happi- 
ness of  those  most  dear  to  him  ? 

Louise  and  her  father  were  seated  alone  in  the  library  while 
he  was  engaged  in  reading  the  news  of  the  progress  of  affairs  in 
Paris. 

"  Could  you  not,"  said  Louise,  "  return  to  Paris,  and  widiout 
mingling  in  political  strife,  recover  the  fortune  you  have  lost? 
Charles  X.,  it  seems,  is  determined  that  those  who  shared 
misfortunes  with  him  upon  the  overthrow  of  the  government 
shall  now  partake  of  all  the  advantages  flowing  from  the 
Restoration." 

"I  am  happy  now,  Louise.  I  have  no  desire  to  return  to 
France.  I  have  no  confidence  in  the  stability  of  the  institutions 
of  that  fatal  land.  Here  I  can  perceive  the  wonderful  contrast  be- 
tween the  habits,  customs,  modes  of  thinking,  and  conduct  of  the 
people  of  this  Republic,  and  those  of  France.  All  here  are  accus- 
tomed to  regard  the  institutions  of  the  country  with  the  highest 


A     TALE     OF     80UTHEKN    LIFE.  235 

reverence.  The  Constitution  and  laws  are  the  workmanship  of 
their  own  hands,  and  the  men  in  power  are  merely  entrusted  with 
the  requisite  authority  for  the  just  and  proper  administration  of 
that  government.  No  armed  force,  arrayed  on  account  of  the 
misuse  and  abuse  of  that  authority,  deluging  with  blood  our  streets 
and  habitations,  destroying,  with  Yandal  hands,  every  work  of  art, 
is  requisite  to  displace  those  who  may  be  clothed  with  the 
insignia  of  oflBce,  but  as  some  quiet  morning,  from  every  hamlet  and 
town  in  the  land,  may  be  seen  a  body  of  calm  and  peaceful  citizens 
thoughtfully  gathered  about  an  unpretending  town-house,  a  slip 
of  paper  is  deposited  in  a  box,  and  on  the  morrow  you  wake  up, 
and  the  public  press,  with  its  utterings  more  potent  than  the  roar 
of  bellowing  batteries,  or  armed  hosts,  tells  you  that  a  revolution 
has  been  accomplished,  that  those  who  have  betrayed  the  trusts 
reposed  in  them,  are  hurled  from  office.  No  one  in  Europe,  cer- 
tainly in  France,  can  have  any  conception  of  that  beautiful  system 
of  government,  which  has  been  established  upon  this  side  of  the 
water." 

"  But  you  need  not  give  up  your  adopted  home,  father.  An 
absence  of  a  few  months  only  will  be  required.  Your  health,  and 
particularly  the  health  of  Blanche,  demands  a  change  of  scene. 
Becently,  I  have  observed,  she  indulges  those  fits  of  abstraction, 
■which,  at  one  time  evidenced  a  deep-seated  melancholy,  which, 
you  recollect  greatly  alarmed  us." 

"  Do  you  think,"  said  her  father,  "  that  Blanche  would  desire 
now  to  revisit  France  ?" 

"No.  I  think  she  would  prefer  remaining  at  home,"  said 
Louise.  "  But,  so  great  is  her  affection  for  you,  so  devoted  is  she 
to  your  comfort  and  happiness,  that,  if  she  knew  that  you  had 
decided  upon  a  return  to  Paris,  she  would  require  no  urging  to 
induce  her  to  join  you." 

She,  who  was  the  subject  of  their  conversation,  now  entered  the 
Aoartment. 


236  woman's  faith. 

"  Blanche,"  said  her  father,  "  what  think  you  to  my  rOGrossmg 
the  sea,  and  returning  to  Paris  ?" 

*'  For  what  purpose,  father  ?  Could  aught  of  good  be  accom- 
plished by  so  long  a  journey  ?" 

"  Yes,  probably.  By  a  decree  of  the  new  government,  those 
who,  from  necessity  abandoned  their  homes  and  estates  during 
the  imperial  rigime,  are  now  invited  to  return,  and  will,  undoubt- 
edly, be  restored  to  the  honors  and  estates  unjustly  taken  from 
Item." 

"  I  would  not  see  you  again,  a  partaker  of  administrative 
honors  in  your  native  land.  Sure  I  am,  you  would  he  happier 
here.  You  would  never  consent  that  the  ocean  should  separate 
you  from  William,'  Louise,  and  their  children.  I  should  dislike 
to  see  you,  at  your  time  of  life,  periling  happiness,  every 
comfort,  for  the  miserable  baubles  which  fame  has  to  offer." 

"  Ought  I  not  to  be  willing,  for  the  sake  of  my  family,  if  I 
heeded  not  the  voice  of  patriotism,  to  run  the  hazard,  and  make 
the  sacrifice.  Wealth  and  position  might  be  of  great  service  to 
the  children  of  Louise,  if  of  no  consequence  to  us.  At  all  events, 
I  might  go  to  France,  and,  after  a  few  months'  absence,  return  to 
you  all  with  the  estates,  which  were  mine  by  every  right." 

"  I  would  consent  to  this,  upon  one  condition,  father,  that  you 
would  permit  me  to  accompany  you.  I  would  promise  not  to 
engross  too  much  of  your  time,  or  attention." 

Lefort,  at  this  time,  received  a  letter  from  Louis  Philippe, 
urging  him  to  return  imediately  to  France.  "Our  excellent 
monarch,  Charles  X.,"  said  he,  "has  just  passed  the  act, 
awarding  a  milliard  of  indemnity  to  the  emigres,  who  have 
suffered  from  the  revolutionary  proscriptions.  I  have  myself,"  he 
added,  "  received  fourteen  millions,  and,  for  the  asking,  you  will 
be  restored  to  the  estates,  which  were  wrested  from  you.  The 
noble  blood  in  your  veins  will  make  you  an  especial  favorite  with 
Charles,  and  I  need  not  assure  you,  with  what  pleasure  I  shall 


A.    TALE     OF    80UTHEKN     LIFE.  237 

reciprocate  these  large  obligations  you  placed  me  under,  wlien  I 
visited  you  during  your  own  exile.  I  was  then,  a  wanderer,  and 
almost  penniless.  From  you  I  received  that  warm,  generous 
hospitality,  which  relieved  me  from  that  ennui,  which  was  destroy- 
ing me.  Your  house,  your  heart,  and  your  purse  were  open  to 
my  necessities ;  and  now  I  am  favored  by  Providence  with  an 
opportunity  to  return,  in  part,  at  least,  those  favors  so  nobly 
bestowed  by  you.  I  have  the  ear  of  the  king ;  he  remembers 
your  services,  your  name  is  high  upon  his  list,  of  those  whose 
sufferings  for  the  crown  are  to  be  amply  repaid.  Return,  at  once, 
while  his  heart  is  full  and  warm,  and  take  again  your  accustomed 
place  at  the  peerage,  and  receive,  at  his  hands,  the  property 
confiscated  by  a  parvenu  power." 

This  letter  from  one  now  powerful,  and  anxious  to  promote  his 
interests,  decided  Lefort  to  again  cross  the  ocean,  and  once  more 
behold  his  still  beloved  France 


238  woman's   faith 


CHAPTER    XLVIII. 

Burns  had  now  returned  from  Washington,  and  fiilly  entered 
into  the  plans  and  views  of  Mr.  Lefort,  in  regard  to  his  intended 
journey.  He  soothed  the  fears  and  apprehensions  of  Louise, 
assuring  her  that  such  a  journey,  from  change  of  scene,  by  the 
great  benefit  to  be  derived  from  a  sea  voyage,  the  old  associations 
which  will  be  awakened  in  his  mind,  would  add  many  years  to  the 
precious  life  of  her  father.  He  will  be  greatly  interested  in  the 
state  of  atfairs  now  existing  m  his  native  land,  and  will  renew 
acquaintances  with  those,  who,  in  former  times,  were  associated 
with  him  as  the  council  of  the  king.  And  Charles,  the  brother 
of  him  who  had  sat  upon  the  throne,  which  had  been  strengthened 
by  the  manly  support  of  your  father,  will  be  delighted  to  reward 
him  for  the  toils  and  perils  which  he  has  endured  on  account  of 
royalty. 

What  a  meeting !  what  a  presence !  I  can  scarcely  resist  the 
impulses  of  my  heart  to  be  present  upon  an  occasion  so  deeply 
affecting.  And  Blanche,  with  what  grace  and  dignity  will  she 
appear  in  the  polished  circles  of  Paris.  Her  classic  face,  her 
elegant  manners,  education  and  accomplishments,  will  fit  her  to 
take  that  place  among  the  high-born  ladies  of  France,  which, 
years  ago,  your  now  lamented  mother  so  worthily  occupied." 

"  Some  of  these  considerations  influenced  my  own  mind,  dear 
William,  and  induced  me  to  urge  father  to  adopt  the  advice  of 
bis  old  friends  in  France,  and  revisit  that  country,  even  though  my 
heart -was  lacerated  at  the  bare  idea  of  a  separation." 


A     TALE     OFSOTTHEKN     LIFE.  239 

"You  urged  him  to  go?  "Why  you  surprise  me,  Louise,  for 
your  eyes  were  filled  with  tears,  and  your  utterance  quite  choked, 
even  when  you  announced  to  me  his  expected  departure.  But 
that  is  so  like  your  sex.  Your  judgments  are  always  right,  and 
yet  you  ever  permit  that  full  expression  of  feeling,  which,  with  us, 
would  prevent  the  execufion  of  the  object." 

"  Well,  then,"  said  Louise,  "  we  enjoy  the  double  satisfaction  of 
accomplishing  the  good,  and  giving  free  vent  to  our  womanly  sensi- 
bilities. Our  heads  and  hearts  go  together,  the  one  the  helm,  the 
other  the  impulsive  power,  in  navigating  life's  great  ocean,  and 
who  shall  say  that  we  are  not  as  sure  of  reaching  in  safety  the  haven 
of  bliss,  as  those  of  the  stronger  sex  ?" 

"  You  are  the  weaker  vessels,  it  is  said  by  high  authority,"  re- 
marked William, "  how  then  can  you  expect  to  be  able  to  outride  the 
storm  ?  On  placid  seas,  and  with  favoring  gales,  your  little  barks 
would  gaily  dance  upon  the  silver  wave,  but  when  the  tempest 
darkens  the  horizon,  and  its  angry  voice  is  heard  in  the  breeze, 
then  discretion  would  suggest  that  you  hie  home  with  all  possible 
dispatch.  But,  badinage  apart,  whatever  might  have  been  the 
motive,  I  am  truly  surprised  that  you  should  have  urged  upon 
your  father  to  go  to  France.  Trust  me,  he  nor  Helen  will  ever 
regret  that  they  have  decided  to  do  so." 

"  Grafton  forbade  me  to  mention  it  to  any  of  my  family,  that 
he  himself  was  on  the  eve  of  departure  for  the  same  country. 
His  object  was,  for  some  reason  he  did  not  disclose,  to  keep  it  a 
•secret  from  Blanche,  so  you  will  not  mention  this  to  any  one.  I 
cannot  tell  you  how  anxiously  I  look  for  a  meeting  between  these 
two  kindred  spirits.  I  will  not  attempt  to  predict  what  might  be 
the  result  of  such  an  interview ;  but  if  nothing  more,  it  would 
explain  the  conduct,  which  now  appears  so  wrapped  up  from  mor- 
tal vision." 

The  departure  of  Lefort  and  Blanche  soon  followed  this  conver- 
sation, and  it  required  all  the  philosophy  of  William  and  Louise 


"WOMAN     8     FAITH. 

to  chase  away  the  sadness  which  was  thereby  created.  "Well  was 
it  for  their  peace  that  the  delightful  prattle  of  their,  fascinating 
children  was  permitted  them,  for  it  soothed  the  sorrow,  which 
would,  in  spite  of  themselves,  darken  their  dwelling.  "We  will 
for  the  moment  bid  adieu  to  Oak  Lawn,  and  follow  Mr.  Lefort  And 
his  daughter,  now  on  their  way  to  Paris. 


A    TALE     OF     SOUTHERN     LIFE.  241 


66 

CHAPTER    XLIX. 

So  many  and  so  sad  had  been  the  changes  at  Oak  Lawn,  reach- 
ing those  also  who  had  been  upon  an  intimate  footing  in  that  most 
hospitable  family,  that  the  departure  of  Mr.  Lefort  and  of  Blanche 
• — of  the  father  so  beloved,  the  sister  so  dear  and  so  cherished — 
was  an  event  fraught  with  sadness  for  those  who  remained  at  the 
cottage.  Man  finds  in  out-door  employments,  in  the  pursuits  and 
occupations  marked  out  by  ambition,  which  never  slumbers  or 
rests,  in  books,  or  society,  a  relief  from  the  sadness  occasioned  by 
the  absence  of  those  whom  he  loves ;  while  the  very  employments 
of  woman  seem  calculated  to  nourish  and  deepen  the  grief  which 
will  spring  up  in  her  heart,  as  she  imprints  the  last,  warm  kiss 
upon  the  lips  of  those,  whose  absence  she  has  already  felt  in  antici- 
pation. 

Every  breeze  that  swept  wildly  over  the  boundless  prairies — 
every  flash  which  the  red  lightning  threw  across  the  darkened 
horizon — every  voice  of  the  thunder  which  spoke  so  fearfully 
from  the  blackened  clouds,  awakened  in  the  mind  of  Louise  for 
her  father  and  Blanche  the  most  gloomy  apprehensions.  Her 
vivid  imagination  painted  most  glowingly  and  distinctly  the  frail 
bark  which  was  bearing  upon  the  angry  bosom  of  the  swollen 
■waves  these  objects  of  her  heart's  best  aflfections.  Now,  in  fancy, 
she  saw  it  dismasted,  dismantled,  at  the  mercy  of  the  wild  surges, 
whose  roar  almost  reached  her  ear,  now  alive  to  every  sound  that 
threatened  danger,  and  anon  she  beheld  it  struck  by  a  bolt  from  a 
thunder-cloud,  the  fierce  flame  leaping  from  spar  to  spar,  and  lick- 

11 


242  woman's   faith. 

ing,  with  its  forked  tongue,  the  whitened  sail  that  was  fiutten'ng 
in  the  breeze.  It  required  all  the  skill  and  tenderness  of  her 
husband  to  allay  the  fears,  which  would,  in  spite  of  herself,  come 
home  to  the  anxious  and  perturbed  bosom  of  Louise,  and  again  and 
ao-aui  did  she  regret  that  she  had  not  used  all  her  power  to  pre- 
vent them  from  incurring  such  dangers. 

"  I  am  surprised,  dear  Louise,  that  you  should  give  way  to  such 
idle  fancies.  The  ship  which  your  father  and  myself  selected  is 
new,  most  thoroughly  built,  and  commanded  by  one  of  the  most 
experienced  and  skillful  officers  that  ever  crossed  the  Atlantic, 
and  at  this  season  of  the  year,  the  sea  is  as  smooth  as  a  lake,  with 
just  breeze  enough  to  bear  them  to  their  destined  haven." 

"  I  know,  William,  that  it  is  foolish  to  give  way  to  such  appre- 
hensions, which  till  with  direst  anguish,  so  many  of  my  waking 
and  sleeping  hours.  My  fears  give  the  hue  and  coloring  to  all 
my  dreams,  and  I  awake  from  the  visions  of  the  night,  unrefreshed 
and  unhappy." 

"  Why  not,  Louise,  look  upon  the  bright  side  of  the  picture.  I 
can  see  in  my  mind's  eye  your  father  and  Blanche  cheerful  and 
happy  from  the  invigorating  effects  of  their  voyage,  the  bright 
hue  of  health  mantling  the  cheek  of  your  dear  sister,  and  the  eye 
of  your  father  kindling  with  a  new  brilliancy,  as  he  anticipates  a 
favorable  result  from  the  enterprise  he  has  undertaken." 

"  When  do  you  think  we  may  hear  from  them  ?"  said  Louise. 

"  Hardly  before  their  arrival  at  Liverpool,"  said  Bums.  "  My 
friends,  however,  in  New  Orleans,  have  promised  me,  that  should 
the  ship  be  spoken  by  any  returning  vessel,  they  will  immediately 
acquaint  me  of  it.  She  has  been  out  now  two  weeks;  some 
tidings  may  have  reached  her  owners  in  New  Orleans." 

"How  I  wish  I  were  there^  that  I  might,  at  the  earliest 
moment,  receive  such  joyful  tidings  as  would  tell  of  our  dear 
absent  ones,"  said  Louise. 

"  You  will,  then,"  replied  Burns,  "  be  willing  to  accompany  mo 


A     TALE     OF     SOUTHEBN     LIFE.  243 

to  that  city,  as  I  am  compelled  to  go  there  upon  business,  growing 
out  of  the  affairs  of  Charles  Grafton." 

"  With  all  my  heart,"  said  Louise.  "  Indeed,  I  could  not  be 
left  alone  in  our  now  broken  household.     But  the  children  " 

"  O,  we  will  take  all  with  us,"  said  Burns.  "  You  must  havo 
no  further  cause  for  apprehension  or  trouble ;  and  I  hope,  in  New 
Orleans,  so  gay  and  so  full  of  objects  of  interest,  you  will  cease  to 
feel  or  cherish  such  groundless  fears,  as  have  of  late  disturbed 
you." 

On  the  following  day  they  started  on  their  journey,  which  was 
marked  by  no  incident  of  interest.  After  a  few  days  their  eyes 
were  greeted  by  the  tall  spires,  which  told  them  that  the  Crescent 
City  was  within  their  view. 

"  Louise,"  said  Burns,  "  your  looks  betray  disappointment,  as 
you  approach  the  Capital  of  the  State  of  Louisiana.  You  must 
not  expect  to  see  in  our  young  country,  cities  and  towns  such  as 
you  have  witnessed  in  the  Old  World.  Give  to  ours  the  years  ot 
Paris,  and  upon  the  banks  of  the  Mississippi,  as  upon  the  banks 
of  the  Seine,  shall  appear  a  most  magnificent  mart  of  trade, 
adorned  by  its  structures,  rivalling  the  Palais  Royal,  and  the 
Gallery  of  the  Louvre." 

"  One  thing  I  know  I  shall  find,"  said  Blanche,  "  a  kind  and 
generous  hospitality,  which  nowhere  upon  the  globe  can  be 
exceeded." 

"  And  after  all,"  said  Bums,  "  how  does  the  pomp  and  magnifi- 
cence of  wealth  and  luxury  fail  to  bring  happiness  to  the  heart  of 
the  stranger,  if  the  kind  oflSces  of  friendship  and  hospitality  are 
withheld.  The  eye  may  be  dazzled  by  sights  most  wonderful  and 
attractive,  the  ear  be  regaled  by  strains  most  ravishing,  and  yet 
the  spirit  will  faint,  if  for  it  there  are  no  voices  of  welcome,  no 
assurances,  thai  a  kindred  sentiment  sympathizes  with  its  deepest 
emotions." 

They  had  now  been  in  New  Orleans  a  week.     The  hospitable 


244  woman's    faith. 

and  elegant  mansion  of  Mr.  Livingston,  threw  open  its  doors  for 
their  reception,  and  they  found  within  it  every  luxury  and  enjoy- 
ment which  tlie  heart  could  desire.  So  complete,  so  sincere  was 
the  welcome,  so  unbounded  the  hospitality,  and  the  mode  of  life 
on  so  large  and  free  a  scale,  that  Louise  could  realize  the  fullness 
of  the  meaning  of  the  expression  of  Mr.  L.,  that  they  would  con- 
sider the  house  as  their  own,  during  their  stay  in  the  city.  A 
large  and  magnificent  party  given  for  them  by  Mrs.  Livingston, 
introduced  them  to  society,  and  Louise  had  little  else  to  do  than 
receive  the  calls,  and  comply  with  the  invitations  which  crowded 
upv)n  them. 

"  I  had  no  idea,"  said  Louise  to  her  husband,  as  she  found  the 
privacy  of  her  chamber,  "  of  the  elegance  and  taste,  which  T  see 
displayed  in  the  mode  of  life,  that  prevails  at  New  Orleans.  The 
houses  furnished  with  the  magnificence  which  you  see  in  Paris,  and 
the  ladies  dressed  with  all  the  taste  and  richness,  which  you  behold 
in  the  gayest  salons  of  that  unrivalled  city." 

"  I  am  glad,"  said  Burns,  "  you  are  so  agreeably  disappointed." 

"  I  almost  fancied  myself,  when  in  conversation,  to  be  in  my 
own  native  land.  Many  were  more  familiar  with  the  scenes  in 
which  I  passed  my  earlier  years,  than  myself,  and  the  manners, 
and  the  language  so  precisely  those  to  which  I  was  accustomed, 
when  dwelling  in  our  house  upon  the  Seine,  that  it  required  no 
great  stretch  of  the  imagination  to  believe  myself  to  be  in  France." 

"  Many  of  the  young  gentlemen  have  received  their  education  in 
France,"  said  Burns,  "  and  being  of  French  extraction,  they  have 
more  the  manners  and  habits  of  that  nation,  than  of  our 
own." 

"  Mrs.  Burns,"  said  Mr.  Livingston,  "  I  shall  be  entitled  to,  and 
shall  receive,  I  know,  one  of  your  blandest,  sweetest  smiles,  when 
I  tell  you,  that  we  have  this  morning  received  intelligence  of  the 
safe  arrival  of  the  ship,  in  wliicli  your  father  and  sister  sailed. 
They  had  a  quick  and  pleasant  '  '   'ge,  and  soon  you  may  expect 


A    TALE    OF    SOUTHERN    LIFE.  245 

from  the  pen  of  Miss  Blanche,  an  answer  to  all  the  queries, 
which  your  h"eart  is  desirous  of  knowing." 

"  My  husband  will  permit  me  more  than  a  smile,  and  will  not 
scold  me  if  I  adopt  the  French  fashion,"  said  Louise,  "  and  with  a 
kiss  repay  you  for  news  so  grateful  to  my  heart." 

"  You  had  best  consider,  before,  by  your  example,"  said  her 
husband,  "  you  tempt  me  to  play  the  gallant,  where  beauty  is  so 
attractive,  and  smiles,  so  captivating  and  winning." 

"The  frost  of  New  England  manners,  Mr.  Bums,"  said  Mr. 
Livingston,  "  surely  must  have  all  melted  and  vanished  under  the 
genial  influence  of  the  fair  daughters  of  our  sunny  clime.  And 
from  the  graceful  compliments,  the  effects  of  which  I  so  often  see 
upon  the  heightened  color  of  beauty's  cheek,  I  am  assured  that  you 
have  readily  fallen  into  the  habits  of  our  Southern  region." 

"  Where  customs  and  habits  are  so  agreeable  to  the  heart,"  said 
Burns,  "  the  process  is  not  slow  or  difficult,  which  leads  us  to  their 
adoption.  I  think  we  of  the  North  are  somewhat  maligned  or  mis- 
represented, when  we  are  spoken  of  as  cold  and  distant  in  our 
manners  and  dispositions." 

"  If  you  were  the  true  type  or  representative  of  New  England 
manners,  I  might  agree  with  your  remark,"  said  Mr.  Livingston. 
"  But  in  your  far-famed  city  of  notions,  they  surely  have  the  repu- 
tation of  great  coldness  of  manner,  and  yet  I  must  admit,  that 
nowhere  have  I  received  the  attention,  and  kindness,  so  grateful  to 
a  stranger,  to  a  larger  and  fuller  extent  than  in  Boston." 


246  woman's   faith. 


CHATTER    L. 

Soon  after  the  return  of  William  Burns  and  his  family  to  Oak 
Lawn,  Paul  Eaton  called,  preparatory  to  his  departure  from  Lou- 
isiana. He  had  but  recently  returned  from  a  tour  through  the 
Western  States,  and  had,  during  his  absence,  \dsited  the  little 
colony,  which  Charles  Grafton  had  established  in  the  neighbor- 
hood of  a  large  city  in  the  West. 

"  I  know,"  said  he,  addressing  himself  to  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Bums, 
"  that  you  would  be  gratified  to  learn  the  success  of  a  project, 
most  dear  to  the  heart  of  one  of  the  noblest  philanthropists." 

"  To  whom,  and  to  what  enterprise  do  you  refer,  Mr.  Eaton  ?" 
said  Burns. 

"  What  is  uppermost  in  my  own  mind,"  replied  Eaton,  "  I  ever 
fancy  occupies  the  thoughts  of  others.  In  the  habit  I  have  unfor- 
tunately acquired  of  absent-mindedness,  I  had  quite  overlooked 
the  fact  that  you  could  not  have  known  of  my  tour  of  obser- 
vation." 

"  Never  mind,  Mr.  Eaton,  you  have  but  employed  the  art  of  the 
skilful  orator  in  arousing  our  attention,  and  exciting  our  curiosity. 
We  are  now  all  impatience  to  hear  the  account  you  promised  to 
give  us  of  your  journeyings." 

"  T  referred,"  said  Eaton,  "  to  Mr.  Charles  Grafton,  and  to  the 
slaves  he  has  most  generously  manumitted.  He  has,  at  great 
expense  of  time,  labor,  and  money,  provided  them  with  everything 
necessary  for  their  present  situation.  They  have  now  comfortable 
homes,  and  their  children  have  all  the  advantages  of  a  good 


A     TALE     OF     80UTHEEN     LIFE.  247 

education.  The  men  are  industrious  and  economical,  and  the 
regular  habits  of  labor,  which  they  acquired,  while  in  bondage,  are 
now  of  great  advantage  to  them.  They  are  not  addicted  to  any 
of  the  evil  habits  or  practices,  which  unfortunately  mar  the  hap- 
piness, and  destroy  the  usefulness  of  so  many  among  our  laboring 
classes.  Their  wives  are  chaste  and  virtuous,  and  strive  by  their 
exertions  to  amass  property  for  their  families.  The  children  ai-e 
all  industrious,  and  have  learned  the  useful  lesson  of  obedience." 

"  How  are  they  regarded,"  said  Bums,  "  by  their  white  neigh- 
bors?" 

''  I  am  sorry  to  say,"  replied  Eaton,  "  with  no  little  degree  of 
disfavor.  Even  those,  who  are  loudest  in  their  denunciations  of 
slavery,  are  the  least  tolerant  of  the  dark  skins  of  these  children 
of  Africa.  And  yet  I  am  greatly  surprised,  for  the  blacks  are  all 
respectful,  obliging,  and  kind,  and  are  not  dependent  upon  any 
one." 

"  I  regret  to  admit  there  is  a  strange  contradiction,"  said  Burns, 
"  in  the  conduct  of  those  who  reside  in  the  free  States,  upon  the 
subject  of  the  rights  of  the  colored  race.  They  exclaim  with  holy 
horror  against '  the  sin  of  slavery,'  and  yet  their  prejudice  against 
color  is  vastly  greater  than  it  is  at  the  South.  And  in  som^of 
the  free  States  they  have  carried  it  to  the  extent  of  passing  laws 
forbidding  free  persons  of  color  to  reside  within  the  limits  of  the 
State." 

"  My  own  views,"  said  Eaton,  "  upon  the  subject  of  slavery,  haso 
been  greatly  modified  by  a  Southern  residence.  I  still  regard 
slavery  as  a  great  evil,  and  pray  that  it  may,  ere  long,  cease  to 
exist  in  our  happy  country.  I  now  look  at  it  from  a  different 
stand-point." 

"  Do  tell  me  your  views  upon  this  most  difiicult  subject,"  said 
Burns.  "  I  fear  it  may  hereafter  be  the  occasion  of  great  diffi- 
culty in  our  widely  extended  country.  The  wily  politician,  and 
the  "wild  fanatic  may  make  it  the  source  of  evil  unparalleled." 


24:8  woman's  faith. 

"  In  the  affairs  of  nations,"  said  Eaton,  "  we  are  prone  to  take  » 
too  narrow  and  partial  view.  We  look  to  events  as  they  strike 
our  own  limited,  and  short-sighted  vision.  As  Christians,  we  must 
suppose  that  slavery  was  permitted  to  he  established  here  for  wise 
purposes.  May  it  not  have  been  that  these  sable  children  of 
Africa,  amidst  trials  the  most  austere,  and  sufferings  the  most 
intense,  should  endure  the  horrors  of  the  middle  passage  even,  and 
finally  be  reduced  to  slavery,  that  the  good  of  the  race  might  be 
jjromoted  ?  Who  can  doubt  that  the  condition  of  the  African  in 
his  native  land,  is  a  thousand  times  worse  than  that  of  the  slave 
in  Louisiana.  A  race  of  cannibals,  rioting  in  all  the  pollutions 
of  the  most  savage  life,  cruel,  barbarous  and  besotted  by  igno- 
lance  and  superstition,  they  are  but  little  elevated  above  'the 
beasts  which  perish.'  May  it  not  be  that  the  designs  of  an  all- 
wise  Providence  should  permit  the  present  condition  of  our  blacks, 
that  they  might  witness  the  blessings  of  civilization  and  Christ- 
ianity, and  to  some  extent,  at  least,  enjoy  the  fruits  flowing 
therefrom,  that  they  might  be  hereafter  restored  to  Africa,  and 
carry  with  them  the  seed,  from  which  an  abundant  harvest  of 
good  should  be  realised  for  that  ill-fated,  ill-starred  people.  Great 
revolutions  and  changes  with  nations,  as  well  as  in  nature, 
are  effected  only  by  time.  The  vast  cycle  of  years  is  marching 
majestically  on  its  course,  and  its  end,  its  results,  can  only  be 
seen  by  the  eye  of  Omniscience.  '  One  day  with  the  Lord  is  as  a 
thousand  years,  and  a  thousand  years  as  one  day.'  We  should 
not  be  too  hasty  or  impatient  in  our  judgments  of  human  affairs." 

"  It  seems  to  me,"  said  Burns,  "  this  is  the  true  view  to  take  of 
this  great  question.  When  reading  of  the  small  beginings  of 
our  now  powerful  nation,  all  was  ascribed  to  the  direction  of  that 
Providence,  which  was  so  signally  displayed  with  'the  chosen 
people.'  In  the  view  of  the  religionists  of  that  day,  the  hunting- 
grounds  of  the  Indian,  and  the  sweet  streams,  where  danced  his 
light  canoe,  belonged,  by  a  decree  of  Providence,  to  the  pale  facea. 


A    TALE    OF     80UTIIKKN     LIFE.  249 

I  do  not  admit  that  any  wrong  will  go  unpunished,  or  can  be 
justified  on  the  ground  of  expediency.  But  we  must  leave  to 
time  and  circumstance  to  work  out  those  great  political  advan- 
tages, which  are  to  affect,  for  good  or  for  evil,  the  destinies  of 
millions,  taking  care  that,  individually,  we  do  not  violate  the  golden 
rule,  which  has  been  left  us  for  our  guidance  and  direction." 

"  In  my  opinion,  so  long  as  the  slaveholder  shall  treat  with 
humanity  and  kindness,"  said  Eaton,  "  the  slaves  with  which  he  is 
entrusted,  he  is  free  from  all  sin  in  this  regard.  All  cruelty  and 
wrong  will  meet,  sooner  or  later,  with  the  direst  retribution.  How 
awfully  and  signally  was  this  manifested  in  the  conduct  and  punish- 
ment of  Frank  Grafton.  How  sure  and  how  severe  was  the 
penalty  for  his  deep  transgressions." 


11* 


250  woman's   faith. 


CHAPTER    LI. 

LouiSK  found,  upon  her  return  home  a  large  package  from 
Blanche.  This  was  the  first  separation  of  any  length,  which  had 
ever  marred  the  happiness  of  these  affectionate  and  devoted  sis- 
ters. With  what  rapture  did  she  recognize  the  chirography, 
traced  by  the  fair  hand  of  one  so  cherished.  How  did  quick  com- 
ing fancies  bring  before  her,  the  dear  image  of  the  person,  whose 
glowing  thoughts,  were  now,  as  if  by  magic,  spread  out  for  her 
perusal,  and  whose  last  afi"ectionate  acts  could  almost  be  seen 
upon  the  wax,  bearing,  as  it  did  in  its  motto,  the  charmed  words 
"  toujours  le  rmmeP 

Yes,  dear  Blanche,  said  Louise  to  herself,  you  are  always  the 
same.  The  same,  kind,  noble,  self-sacrificing  girl,  the  same 
-devoted,  affectionate  sister,  the  same  peerless,  priceless  being  in  all 
the  varied  situations  of  our  many-colored  existence.  With  you 
time  nor  distance  can  work  any  change.  Your  untravelled  heart 
looks  back,  even  amidst  scenes  the  most  fascinating,  and  from 
persons  the  most  bewitching,  to  the  old  spot,  which  aflfection  has 
consecrated,  and  to  the  old  faces,  which  earliest  love  has  crowned 
with  an  imdying  interest.  Oh  1  how  my  heart  would  adopt  for  its 
motto, 

"  Si  je  vous  perds,  je  suis  perdu." 

Blanche  had  passed  an  hour  each  evening  in  jotting  down  such 
occurrences  of  the  day,  as  she  thought  might  amuse  her  sister, 
a  part  of  which  we  will  transcribe  for  our  readers. 

"  At  sea. — We  have  now  been  out  four  days,  and  this  is  the 


A     TALE     OF     SOUTHERN     LIFE.  251 

first,  en  which  I  have  left  my  state  room.  The  dark  line  of  sea- 
coast  had  scarcely  faded  from  my  view,  before  the  sickness  of 
heart,  occasioned  by  separation  from  those  so  dear  to  us  at  Oak 
Lawn,  was,  for  the  time,  displaced  by  that  terrible  sea-sickness, 
which  renders  one  completely  selfish,  or  so  despairing,  that  every- 
thing seems  valueless.  If  I  were  once  more  beneath  our  own 
cottage  roof,  could  again  sit  under  the  wide-spreading  oak,  whose 
sheltering  branches  form  so  delightful  a  retreat,  said  T  then  to 
myself,  naught  would  tempt  me  to  roam  from  a  spot  so  charming. 
But  now  I  can  walk  the  deck  of  our  noble,  gallant  ship,  and 
enjoy  that  elation  of  feeling,  so  peculiar  to  a  voyager  upon  the  deep. 
How  delightful  to  watch  the  slow  coming  of  tlie  tall,  crested 
wave,  marching  with  its  fellows,  seemingly  to  attack  this  stranger 
upon  its  wide  domain,  and  as  though  startled  by  the  majestic 
movement  of  the  iron-ribbed  monster,  with  a  sullen,  subdued  roar 
separating  and  dispersing,  as  if  to  gather  some  mightier  forces 
for  the  awful  conflict.  The  playful  gambols  of  the  porpoises,  the 
exquisite  beauty  of  colour,  so  changing,  and  so  distinct  of  the 
dying  dolphin,  as  if  his  last  thought  was  to  impress  you  with  the 
exquisite  and  varied  tint,  which,  by  change  of  motion,  or  at  will, 
he  could  paint  upon  his  scaly  garments;  the  far-off  ship,  which,  in 
the  dim  and  shadowy  distance,  looks  like  a  snow-flake,  borne  by 
the  winds  across  the  pathless  prairie;  the  vapory  clouds  reminding 
you  of  the  snow-white  fleeces,  which  the  hand  of  the  shearer  has 
piled  up  for  the  use  of  nations;  and  the  gorgeous  sunrise,  the  whole 
eastern  circle  of  the  sky,  blazing  with  sparkling  light,  as  from 
myriads  of  diamonds,  to  light  up  the  pathway  of  the  king  of  day. 
'  The  romance  of  the  sea,'  how  I  wish  I  possessed  the  genius  of 
him,  whose  glowing  words  threw  around  it  a  charm  and  a  fasci- 
nation, equalled  only  by  the  '  Old  Mortality,'  or  '  The  Heart  of 
Mid  Lothian.' 

"  The  tall  spires  of  the  distant  city,  now  tell  to  our  delighte*; 
hearts  that  we  are  near  our  do-'^'ned  haven.     "With  what  thank- 


253  woman'sfaith. 

ful  hearts  do  we  acknowledge  the  protection  of  Him, '  who  ruleth 
the  raging  of  the  sea.' 

"  Paris. — How  can  I  describe  to  you  the  feelings  with  which  I 
approached  this  world-renowned  city.  And  how  little  is  it 
changed  since  you  and  I  were  dwelling  here  in  our  own  home,  to 
which  father  has  just  conducted  me,  upon  the  banks  of  the 
Seine.  Too  many  and  too  touching  were  the  associations  con- 
nected with  this  spot,  so  dear  to  our  hearts ;  too  hallowed  and 
mournful  the  memories  which  cluster  around  the  home  of  earlier 
and  happier  years,  to  admit  of  words.  Expressive  silence  was 
the  more  natural  and  appropriate  speech,  standing  near  the  spot, 
where  my  infancy  was  cradled,  and  around  it  seemed  to  hover  the 
angelic  form  of  our  sainted  mother.  But  I  will  not  dwell  upon 
mournful  themes,  or  gloomy  recollections.  The  present  is  ours, 
the  past  has  gone  to  make  up  the  great  record,  which  no  mortd 
hand  may  eflface,  and  which  must  pass  the  eye,  and  meet  the 
decree,  of  Infinite  wisdom. 

I  scarcely  know  where  to  begin  in  telling  you  what  I  have  seen 
in  this  most  fascinating  city.  But  no  place  has  seemed  so  attrac- 
tive, and  to  which  I  have  been  bound  by  a  spell  almost  irresisti- 
ble, as  the  house,  which  was  once  our  own.  Father,  without 
disclosing  our  names,  was  politely  permitted  by  the  present 
proprietor  to  go  over  the  grounds,  and,  in  the  blandest  manner, 
invited  to  enter  the  house  and  take  some  refreshment.  As  he 
was  seated  in  a  large,  elegant  old  chair,  his  eye  was  suffused 
with  tears,  and  so  quickened  were  all  his  sensibilities,  that  he 
could  not  restrain  the  deep-drawn  sigh,  which  told  of  the  sore 
trials  through  which  he  had  passed.  The  courtly  bearing  of  him 
whose  hospitalities  we  were  receiving,  would  not  permit  him  to 
intrude  upon  sorrows  which  appeared  so  deep  and  sacred.  But 
father,  with  that  ease  and  grace,  for  which  he  is  so  deservedly 
distinguished,  at  once  accosted  him. 

" '  \  thought,'  said  he, '  that  I  had  schooled  my  feelings,  that 


A     TALE     OF     SOUTHERN     LIFE.  253 

they  were  completely  within  my  control.  But  when  I  found 
myself  seated  upon  an  old  chair  that  had  been  handed  down  to 
me  from  my  ancestors,  and  saw  before  me  the  venerated  portrait 
of  a  distant  kinsman,  the  emotions  of  my  heart  overpowered  me. 
Pardon  me,  sir,  for  this  intrusion  upon  the  privacy  of  your 
house.' 

"  '  Have  I  the  honor,'  said  our  host,  '  of  addressing  one  who  is 
the  favorite  of  the  court,  whose  name  and  deeds  will  possess  a 
power  with  our  noble  king — Monsieur  Le  Vicompte ;  if  I  am  not 
mistaken,  it  will  hereafter  be  a  source  of  pride,  as  well  as  happi 
ness,  to  know  that  Lefort  has  honored  my  house  with  hit- 
presence.' 

"  *  You  are  too  kind,'  said  Lefort,  '  I  have  now  neither  wealth 
nor  honors,  but  I  still  possess  a  loyal  heart,  full  of  admiration  for 
our  noble  king  and  his  brave  followers.' 

"  '  Do  me  the  honor  of  making  this  house  your  home,  Monsieua 
Le  Vicompte.  And  permit  me  to  assure  you,  I  hold  but  as  your 
trustee,  all  articles  of  taste  or  use,  which  were  yours  before  the 
unhappy  days  of  revolution.' 

"This  scene  was  more  prolonged  and  touching,  than  I  have 
described.  It  has  lifted  a  load  from  the  heart  of  father,  assuring 
him  of  the  estimation  in  which  his  services  are  held,  and  that  his 
name  and  conduct  are  not  forgotten  amidst  the  throng,  which  now 
crowd  the  court  of  the  monarch.  To-day,  I  was,  unwillingly,  and 
to  my  great  surprise,  made  the  heroine  in  a  scene  of  a  most  touch- 
ing character.  I  had  been  walking  in  one  of  the  streets  of  the 
faubourg  St.  Germain,  and  was  lingering  in  the  vicinity  of  the 
church  of  St.  Sulpice,  attracted  thither  by  the  crowds  of  ladies, 
who  were  on  their  way  to  mass.  An  elegant  and  dignified  lady 
approached  me,  enveloped  in  a  most  rich,  dark  shawl,  and  her 
face  hid  beneath  a  long  and  costly  veil.  I  thought  she  eyed  me 
with  no  small  degree  of  particularity,  but  I  attributed  it  to  ray 
mode  of  dress,  which  then  was  entirely  American.    I  was  about 


254  woman's   faith. 

to  pass  her  without  further  thought  upon  the  incident,  when  she 
gracefully  threw  her  veil  from  her  face,  and  exclaimed,  '  Man 
Dieu  /  is  this  an  apparition  ?  I  .*eem  to  see  before  me  the  com- 
panion of  my  earliest  and  happiest  years.  Marie  Lefort,  from  what 
region  have  you  returned  to  gladden  the  eyes  and  the  heart  of  the 
friend  of  your  childhood  ?  Pardon  me,  mademoiselle,  but  your 
face  is  the  perfect  image,  the  exact  counterpart  of  one,  who  years 
since,  was  my  dearest,  most  valued  friend.' 

" '  I  am  indeed.  Mademoiselle  Lefort,  a  native  of  Paris,  and  I 
presume,  am  the  daughter  of  her  to  whom  you  have  referred.' 

"  With  all  the  warmth,  and  empressement,  so  peculiar  to  the 
French,  she  folded  me  in  her  arms,  and  imprinted  upon  my  cheeks 
kisses  most  warm  and  abundant.  The  next  day  she  called  upon  us 
with  her  husband  and  daughter,  and  another  scene,  most  intensely 
touching,  was  enacted  at  their  meeting  with  father.  They  were 
old  friends,  together  fled  from  the  brutal  attacks  of  the  myrmidons 
of  Robespierre  and  Danton,  and  have  now  been  restored  to  all  the 
wealth,  and  all  the  honors  of  which  they  have  so  long  been 
deprived.  The  result  of  this  interview  has  been  a  visit  of  a  few 
days  at  the  most  charming  home  cf  the  friends  of  my  father 
Monsieur  Casimir  Perier  and  family.  I  cannot  tell  you  how  eag- 
rely  Monsieur  Perier  has  entered  upon  the  plans  for  the  restitution 
of  all  th  it  father  has  lost,  and  he  can  scarcely  wait  for  the  time  to 
arrive,  when  he  can  see  us  presented  to  the  courtly  Charles. 
Was  not  this  an  incident  most  romantic  and  exciting,  and  will 
you  be  surprised  when  I  tell  you  that  I  was  so  much  overcome  at 
my  first  meeting  with  Madame  Perier,  that  her  figure,  and  speech, 
and  cordial  welcome  were  before  me  during  the  succeeding  hours 
of  night,  and  drove  sleep  far  from  my  pillow.  I  fear  you  will  be 
fatigued,  Louise,  by  the  particularity  with  which  I  relate  some  of 
the  daily  occurrences  which  take  place  aud  fill  up  the  hours  of  the 
day,  so  that  I  have  scarcely  time  to  recover  from  the  eflfect  of 
one  exciting  scene  before  another  occurs,  still  more  deeply  novel 
and  interesting. 


A.     TALE     OF     SOUTHERN     LIFK.  255 


CHAPTER    LII 

"'Society. — I  cannot  tell  you  how  charmed  I  am  with  the 
delightful  reunions  to  which  we  are  invited  every  evening.  So 
brilliant,  so  sparkling  with  wit,  and  so  overflowing  with  good 
humor  is  the  conversation,  the  old  emigres  full  of  vivacity  and  spirit, 
forgetting  in  the  enjoyment  of  the  present,  all  the  trials  and 
sorrows  of  the  past ;  and  the  manners  and  the  dress  of  the  ladies, 
so  distinguished  for  the  ease  and  grace  of  the  one,  by  the  exqui- 
site taste  of  the  other.  How  is  the  really  good  society  of  Paris 
misconceived  or  misrepresented  in  America.  There  the  men  are 
spoken  of  as  little  better  than  a  race  of  fops  and  coxcombs,  and 
the  ladies  as  heartless,  light,  and  trifling.  What  would  their 
defamers  have  thought  had  they  been  with  me  in  the  brilliant 
salon  of  the  Duchesse  de  L.  Never  did  I  see  such  a  galaxy  of 
splendid  personages.  Here  were  assembled  those  who  were  most 
distinguished  for  their  conversational  powers,  the  poets,  the 
artists,  the  savans^  with  a  world  renowned  reputation,  Madame  de 
Stafel  and  others,  whom  it  would  be  invidious  to  speak  of  by 
name.  There  was  no  room  or  time  for  the  idle  dance,  and  but 
for  a  moment,  did  the  sweet  voice  of  song,  or  the  entrancing 
strains  of  music  interrupt  the  glowing  wit,  which,  like  the  bril- 
liant coruscations  upon  an  evening  sky,  lighted  up  with  dazzling 
flashes  the  topics  of  discussion. 

"  I  confess  I  am  sorry  to  see,  however,  an  attempted  change  of 
the  ancien  regime.  The  Duke  of  Orleans,  whom  I  greatly  admire 
for  his  frank,  agreeable  manners,  and  the  kindness  which  he 
manifests  in  all  that  concerns  our  familv,  at  all  his  receptions 


256  WOMAN    8    FAITH. 

which  he  gives,  and  they  are  ahnost  weekly,  collects  aroand 
himself  the  wealthy  citizens  of  Paris,  without  regard  to  their  intel- 
ligence or  acquaintance  with  the  decorum  of  society.  The  charm 
of  the  polbhed  circle  is  thereby  lost.  In  vain  does  he  assemble 
in  his  salons,  those  who  are  graced  with  all  the  accomplishments 
and  endowments  of  the  very  ilite  of  the  city,  still  it  is'a  heteroge- 
neous mass,  with  no  tastes  or  feelings  in  common,  and  all  retire 
from  the  gorgeous  rooms  tired  and  disgusted,  and  surprised  at  the 
want  of  tact  in  the  noble  Duke  in  the  formation  of  his  company. 
It  is  said  that  he  has  ambitious  views,  and  that  he  is  now  courting 
that  powerful  party,  made  up  of  the  wealthy  citizens,  at  the  head 
of  whom  is  Monsieur  Lafitte. 

**  I  have  just  had  a  long  and  delightful  conversation  with  the 
Duke  of  Orleans,  or  as  he  is  more  familiarly  known  in  the  United 
States,  Louis  Philippe.  He  had,  he  said,  many  very  agreeable 
reminiscences  of  Louisiana,  where  he  had  made  some  most  rained 
and  cherished  acquaintances.  He  spoke  particularly  of  Monsieur 
B.  M.,  a  gentleman  of  fortune  and  education,  a  citizen  of  New 
Orleans.  He  remarked  that  he  had  been  entertained  by  him  in 
a  most  princely  style,  and  with  that  large  and  generous  hospitality 
so  agreeable  to  the  dispirited  stranger.  He  said  he  was  then 
an  exile  from  his  beloved  France,  and.  almost  penniless  in  a 
foreign  land.  He  spoke  of  the  Cresent  City  with  great  admira- 
tion, and  said  he  was  a^onished  to  find  there,  men  of  the 
various  professions,  who  would  take  a  high  rank  in  any  ci^ 
of  the  civilized  world.  And  he  was  especially  complimen- 
tary in  his  comments  upon  the  fair  sex  of  our  adopted  country. 
I  think  he  has,  by  his  residence  in  the  United  States,  become 
tinged  in  no  small  d^ree,  with  republican  sentiments.  ^ 
says  he  shall  never  forget  the  kindness  which  was  extended  to 
him  while  in  America,  and  seems  gratified  by  any  opportunity  of 
repaying  the  obligation.  Let  me  describe  to  you  the  occasion  and 
jAace  of  this  conversation.     Imagine  yourself  at  a  large  party 


A    TALE     OF     80UTHEKN     LIFE.  2$7 

given  by  the  Duke  of  Orleans,  and  the  elegant  suite  of  apart- 
ments, in  which  were  assembled  the  most  beautiful  ladies  of  Paris, 
poets  and  artists,  and  those  most  distinguished  at  the  bar  and 
in  the  cabinet  Professional  musicians,  as  the  fit  might  prompt 
them,  sitting  at  the  piano,  and  giving  us  strains  of  music  most 
witching;  in  another  corner  those  novelists,  who  have  astonished 
the  age  by  their  unrivalled  descriptions  of  men  and  manners,  dis- 
cussing some  amusing  topic,  if  you  may  judge  from  the  incessant 
smiles,  which  are  lighting  up  their  handsome  faces.  While  the 
Dnke  of  Orleans  has  honored  your  sister  by  leading  her  to 
the  magnificent  picture  gallery,  conversing  with  me  on  his  favorite 
subject  the  beauties  of  art,  and  as  he  stands  before  a  magnifi- 
cent painting,  "  Washington  crossing  the  Delaware,"  invites  me  to 
a  seat,  and  descants  in  most  eloquent  language  upon  our  colonial 
and  revolutionary  history,  and  fixing  his  eye  upon  the  noble  form 
of  "  the  Father  of  his  country,"  remarks,  that  in  vain  will  you. 
look  over  all  the  annals  of  the  past,  to  find  so  perfect,  so  true  a 
type  of  humanity,  as  him  who  is  now  before  us.  Such  simple 
dignity,  such  true  heroism,  such  unmingled,  disinterested  patriot- 
ism. But  I  shall  fail  in  any  attempt  to  give  you  his  expressions. 
Sufllce  it  to  say,  that  no  man  could  be  more  eulogistic  of  the 
hero,  or  his  country.  And  he  remarked  that  he  was  not  surprised 
that  my  father  had  sought  a  home  in  a  land,  which  was  destined 
to  become  as  distinguished  for  the  cultivation  of  the  arts  of  peace, 
as  it  was  for  its  free  institutions.  He  hoped,  however,  that  now, 
as  he  was  restored  to  the  position  he  had  once  enjoyed,  and  to  the 
fortune,  which  had  been  wrested  from  him,  he  would  decide  to 
return  to  our  beloved  France. 

I  must  defer  any  further  accounts  of  my  visits,  and  various 
promenades  in  the  city,  for  instead  of  compressing  it  within  the 
compass  of  a  letter,  I  shall  be  giving  you  a  volume  of  travels. 
But  I  shall  have  the  pleasure,  dear  Louise,  of  furnishing  you  a 
more  full,  and  minute  account  of  the  various  and  daily  incidents, 


258  woman's   faith. 

which  have  afforded  me  so  much  pleasure  during  our  brief  stay  iu 
Paris,  when  again  I  shall  have  the  pleasure  of  sitting  once  more,  in 
our  own  quiet,  lovely  cottage,  on  the  banks  of  the  Teche.  Dearer 
to  me  is  Oak  Lawn,  more  precious  its  associations,  than  the  most 
gorgeous  palace,  which  wealth  or  fashion  has  ever  erected  in  this 
most  wonderful,  pleasure-loving  city. 


A    TALE    OF    SOUTHEBN     LIFE.  259 


CHAPTER   LIII. 

'  These  old  scenes  and  sights,  dear  Blanche,  are  so  full  of  the 
recA  ilections  of  the  past,  that  at  times  I  am  quite  unfitted  for  all 
exertion.  I  had  no  idea  that  these  memories  were  so  vital.  I 
thought  that  time  and  absence  had  quite  extinguished  them.  But 
/hey  seem  to  merely  have  slept,  and  now  awaking,  with  renewed 
strength,  they  place  me  on  the  old  spot,  with  the  same  old  emo- 
tions which  quickened  the  pulsations  of  my  heart  many  a  long 
year  ago.  Some  of  the  traces  of  Vandalism  are  here,  yet  I  must 
confess  I  behold  in  the  magnificent  public  works,  which  on  all 
sides  meet  my  eye,  the  wonder-working  power  of  the  genius  and 
energy  of  Napoleon.  But  above  all,  I  am  right  glad  to  see  that 
your  face  wears  an  animation,  which  for  years  I  have  not  seen 
there.  I  shall  have  received  more  than  honors  and  estates  by  my 
visit  to  Paris,  if  the  rose  of  health  is  restored  to  the  cheek,  the 
smile  of.  happiness  to  the  heart,  of  my  dearly  loved  daughter." 

"  Oh,  father,  how  ever  kind  is  your  pure  and  loving  heart.  I 
confess  that  since  I  put  my  foot  upon  the  shore  of  my  native  land, 
new  impulses  are  warming  my  heart,  new  visions  are  floating 
before  my  delighted  imagination.  Is  it  not  true  that  there  is  a 
genius  of  the  place, — a  genius  loci  ?  It  scarcely  seems  strange  to 
me,  that  the  beautiful  superstition  should  have  obtained  among 
the  ancients,  that  each  place  had  its  presiding  divinity,  that  each 
person,  at  his  birth,  had  his  tutelary  deity,  locating  his  abode, 
guiding  his  footsteps  along  the  devious  paths  of  his  journey,  and 
guarding  his  pei-son  from  the  unseet.  «od  unnumbered  dangers 


260  woman's   faith. 

which  beset  him.  I  seem  to  be  greeted  upon  my  return  to  the 
home  of  my  childhood  by  some  invisible  influence.  The  old  moss 
grown  walls,  the  tesselated  pavement  even,  has  a  voice  of  welcome, 
and  I  am  happy." 

"  I  dare  not,  dear  Blanche,  permit  my  own  heart  to  dwell  upon 
the  old  recollections,  the  delightful  associations,  of  which  every 
street  is  so  full.  We,  of  France,  are  a  volatile  people,  but  are 
proud,  and  passionately  fond  of  our  own  native  land.  To  a 
Frenchman,  Paris  is  the  world.  Exiled  from  it,  the  wanderer 
whether  surrounded  by  the  gilded  seductions  of  pleasure,  or  the 
pomp  and  pageantry  of  power,  like  Ulysses,  ever  sighs  for  the  hour 
Avhen  he  may  return  to  his  beloved  Ithaca.  I  sometimes  think  I 
will  persuade  William  to  come  with  Louise  and  her  sweet  cherubs, 
and  make  our  home  once  more  in  the  land  I  love  so  warmly." 

"  We  are  neither  of  us,  dear  father,  in  a  condition  o^  mind  to 
judge  with  any  correctness,"  said  Blanche.  "  I  confess  that  there 
is  a  spell  woven  around  my  heart,  that  controls  its  every  emotion. 
I  seem  to  think  that  here  all  my  toils  are  to  end,  that  I  am  again 
to  be  the  same  laughing,  happy,  and  joyous  spirit,  which,  with  its 
mischievous  pranks,  once  so  severely  tried  the  kindness  of  your 
heart.  How  sweetly  that  music  floats  through  the  air  from  yon- 
der brilliant  salon,  how  fresh  the  happiness  which  beams  from 
every  face,  the  delight  which  glows  in  the  graceful  motion  of  that 
fair  company.  I  must  say  that  there  is  a  poetry  of  life  in  Paris, 
peculiar  to  that  charming  city.  I  do  not  mean,  as  you  see  it  in 
the  gay  and  lovely  circles,  where  pleasure  holds  his  court,  in  the 
halls,  where  music  is  leading  in  its  train,  its  enchanted  votaries,  or 
in  the  more  decorated  apartments,  where  the  arts  are  displaying 
the  unrivalled  grace  and  beauty  of  sculpture  and  of  painting ;  but 
in  every  scene,  sombre  or  gay,  in  the  careless  frivolity  of  the  laugh- 
ing flower-girl,  as  in  the  busy  marts  of  trade,  everywhere,  all 
around  you,  are,  as  it  were,  invested  with  the  very  light  of  life, 
and  your  spirit  cannot  be  dark  and  melancholy." 


A    TALE    OV    SOUTHEKN    LIFE.  261 

"  I  suspect  I  should  find  in  you,  Blanche,  a  warm  advocate  in 
urging  my  dear  children  to  join  us  here.  Your  enthusiasm  is  to 
the  full  as  warm  as  my  own,  and  if  you  are  happy  here,  if  discon- 
tent and  disappointment  are  banished  from  all  abodes  in  France, 
sure  we  had  better  decide  upon  making  Paris  our  home.  But  I 
forget  that  to-morrow  I  am  to  be  introduced,  by  my  old  friend, 
Casimir  Pevier,  to  Charles  X.,  and  it  is  now  late,  and  we  shall  be 
fortunate,  if  amidst  all  the  excitement  of  scenes  around  us,  we  can 
find  that  repose  and  rest,  so  necessary  and  requisite  in  all  the 
varied  engagements  before  us." 

On  the  following  day  Lefort  was  duly  presented  at  court.  He 
was  received  in  the  easy,  elegant  manner  which  so  distinguished 
that  unfortunate  monarch. 

"  Every  day,"  said  the  king,  "  brings  new  joy  to  my  heart,  and 
strength  to  the  throne,  in  the  return  of  those  whose  noble  brows 
and  lofty  bearing  were  a  standing  rebuke  to  upstart  authority,  and 
which,  therefore,  expelled  them  from  a  country  their  valor  had 
defended,  and  their  talents  adorned.  M.  Le  Vicompte,  we  wel- 
come you  back  to  Paris." 

"Your  majesty  will  please  accept  the  gratitude,  which  my 
emotions  in  this  presence  do  not  permit  me  to  express.  To  see 
you,  sire,  upon  the  throne  of  your  ancestors,  the  glory  of  our 
beloved  France,  the  happiness  of  your  people,  all  secure  under 
your  wise  administration,  is  a  happiness  too  great  to  find  utter- 
ance. May  you  long  be  spared  to  your  subjects.  But  I  fear  that 
I  trespass  upon  that  time,  which  is  now  so  valuable,  and  hereby 
take  my  leave." 

"  No,  no,  a  moment  with  my  minister,  M.  Polignac,  and  you 
will  then  give  us  some  account  of  your  long  absence  from  the 
home  of  your  fathers." 

Charles  the  X.  with  that  warmth  and  generosity  which  so  dis- 
tinguished him,  after  signing  some  document  prepared  by  his 
minister,  informed  Polignac   that  he  had   now  before  him   an 


262  woman's    faith. 

affair  of  State,  of  pressing  exigency,  requiring  immedia'.e  atten- 
tion. 

lie  introduced  Lefort  as  one  of  the  oldest  supporters  of  the 
crown, — "Whose  ancestry,"  said  Charles,  "in  ages  past,  had  received 
at  the  hands  of  royalty,  the  highest  marks  of  distinction,  and 
favor,  for  gallant  services.  He  had,"  said  the  king,  "distinguished 
himself  by  heroic  deeds,  in  saving  the  royal  family  from  ruffiai;ly 
assaults,  and  submitted  to  great  pecuniary  losses,  rather  than  sacri- 
fice his  royalty.  It  is  our  wish  that  his  accounts,  as  prepared  by 
himself,  be  taken  as  true,  and  at  once,  from  our  royal  treasury,  his 
losses  be  made  up  to  him.  From  our  own  hand  he  will  receive  a 
sword,  in  lieu  of  that  which  he  battered  upon  the  mailed  heads 
of  armed  bands  who  were  ruthlessly  assailing  the  venerable  person 
of  Louis  XVIII." 

Lefort  was  almost  overwhelmed  by  this  unexpected  and  noble 
conduct  of  the  king.  He  was  about  to  express  his  thanks  for  this 
most  gratifying  proof  of  kindness  on  the  part  o(  the  monarch,  but 
he  gracefully  waved  him  back,  with  the  remark,  "  We  are  only 
discharging  an  obligation  of  the  crown.  Your  gratitude  is  best 
expressed  in  the  faithful  loyalty,  which  preferred  banishment,  with 
loss  of  honors  and  estate,  to  wealth  and  favor,  conferred  by  those, 
who  had  seized  the  reins  of  government." 

Lefort,  in  as  brief  a  manner  as  possible,  informed  the  king  of 
his  residence  in  England,  that  upon  a  return  to  France,  seeing  no 
hope  that  power  was  to  be  restored  to  rightful  hands,  he  preferred 
to  take  up  his  abode  in  that  portion  of  America,  once  belonging 
to  France,  and  which  was  most  unwisely  transferred  to  the  United 
States.  "  The  manner  and  language  of  the  people,"  said  he,  "  the 
very  name  of  the  State,  endeared  to  me  my  new  home,  and  in 
Louisiana  I  seemed  to  be  dwelling  in  a  colony  belonging  to  my 
own  beloved  country.  With  great  gratitude  do  they  remember 
the  aid  and  encouragement  of  France  in  their  long  and  arduous 
struggle  with  England,  and  nobly  when  in  their  power,  do  they 


A    TALE    OF     80UTHEKN     LIFE.  263 

requite  that  kindness,  rendered  them  in  the  dark  hour  of  their 
national  history." 

With  many  and  warm  assurances  of  his  friendship,  Charles 
received  the  parting  adieus  of  Lefort,  and  told  him  from  his  long 
residence  in  America,  he  might  render  essential  services  to  the 
country  in  the  settlement  of  questions  growing  out  of  the  Milan 
and  Berlin  decrees,  the  arbitrary  acts  of  Napoleon. 

"  I  am  glad  to  see  you  safe  returned,  dear  father.  Soon  after 
you  left  us,  the  Duke  of  Orleans  sent  in  his  card.  I  informed  the 
attendant  of  your  absence,  he  then  inquired  if  Mademoiselle  Lefort 
was  in,  and  I  dared  not  say  no,  so  I  had  the  honor  of  a  presenta- 
tion to  that  distinguished  personage." 

"  Well,  how  did  you  like  him  ?"  said  her  father.  "  He  is  a  man 
of  great  intelligence  and  interest,  and  in  his  early  years  was  quite 
a  favorite  with  your  sex." 

"  I  found  him,"  replid  Blanche,  "  exceedingly  affable,  full  of 
anecdote,  and  so  warm  in  his  expressions  of  friendship  and  regard 
for  you,  that  I  was  very  much  inclined  to  return  his  affectionate 
salute,  as  warmly  as  it  was  given.  I  wonder  what  our  young 
ladies  in  America  would  say  to  such  a  reception  ?  He  was  full  of 
admiration  of  America,  gave  me  a  most  interesting  and  graphic 
description  of  the  retirement  of  Washington  from  oflSce,  and  the 
inauguration  of  his  successor.  He  remarked  that  he  had  never 
witnessed,  nor  in  all  history  had  he  ever  read,  of  so  august  and 
imposing  a  scene  as  the  laying  aside  the  robes  of  oflSce  by  the 
great  and  good  Washington,  The  placid  dignity,  which  sat  upon 
his  noble  brow,  his  commanding  figure,  the  patriotism  which 
beamed  in  his  eye,  and  which  manifested  itself  in  all  his  conduct, 
made  him  appear  the  impersonation  of  true  greatness.  But  I  will 
not  attempt  a  further  description  of  this  delightful  interview.  He 
bade  me  present  to  his  old  friend  Monsieur  le  Vicompte,  his 
warmest  regards,  and  his  regrets  at  your  absence.  He  said  that 
the  arrival  of  the  long  and  queen  of  Naples  had  induced  him  to 


264  WOMANS     FAITH. 

give  » large  fete,  and  he  hoped  it  would  be  graced  by  the  pres- 
ence of  his  friend,  my  father,  and  his,  shall  I  say  it,  charming 
daughter.  The  duchess  and  his  daughters,"  he  said,  "  would  early 
make  the  acquaintance  of  your  humble  servant.  I  have  so  much 
to  tell,  dear  father,  that  I  forget  that  you  might  desire  the  piivilege 
of  saying  a  word  "'^ourself" 

"  I  will  he  patient,"  said  her  father,  "  for  I  have  so  long  a  story 
to  tell  you,  one  which  will  interest  you  so  much,  that  you  will 
quite  forget  even  the  splendid  fete,  to  which  we  are  invited  by 
Louis  Philippe." 

"  Do  tell  me,  dear  father ;  I  am  all  impatience  to  learn  some 
account  of  your  interview  with  Charles  X.  I  hope  the  king 
was  gracious.  You  have  been  so  long  absent  from  courts,  so 
accustomed  of  late  years  to  plain,  simple,  republican  manners, 
that  you  must  have  felt  a  little  strangely  in  the  presence  of  such 
a  stickler  for  etiquette,  as  Charles  is  represented." 

"They  do  him  injustice,  my  daughter.  He  is  most  courteous 
and  affable  in  his  address,  and  faultless  in  his  manners.  It  said 
of  him,  that  he  is  more  the  gentilhomme  than  the  king.  He, 
surely,  can  render  a  favor  with  more  grace  than  any  one  else. 
But  I  anticipate.  He  received  me  in  the  most  cordial  manner 
possible,  addressed  me  by  my  old  title,  and  was  most  flattering  in 
his  remembrance  of  the  poor  services  I  had  once  rendered  th« 
crown.  And  now,  my  dear  daughter,  what  think  you  ?  Without 
a  word  or  a  hint  from  me,  of  the  losses  and  sacrifices  which  had 
fallen  to  my  lot,  in  my  adherence  to  the  fortunes  of  the  king, 
when  his  minister,  the  Prince  de  Polignac,  arrived,  and  consulted 
with  ihe  king  upon  some  important  business  of  State,  he  intro- 
duced him  to  me  in  the  most  flattering  manner.  After  showering 
compliments  upon  me,  he  spoke  of  my  pecuniaiy  losses,  and 
directed  that  my  own  statement  in  regard  to  them  should  be 
received  as  correct,  and  the  amount  paid  over  immediately  upoa 
my  order.     Was  not  this  done  like  a  prince  ?     I  remeinbercd  tlio 


A    TALE     OF     SOUTHEKN    LIFE.  265 

time  that  I  had  vainly  knocked  at  the  door  of  the  imperial 
government  for  the  restoration  of  my  property ;  how  great  now 
was  the  contrast !  It  was,  as  the  king  said,  a  right ;  my  property 
had  been  unjustly  confiscated,  and  yet,  until  now,  I  had  no  pro- 
mise, even,  that  the  wrong  should  be  redressed." 

"  I  cannot  tell  you,  dear  father,  how  happy  you  make  me  by 
this  information ;  'tis  in  part  fulfillment  of  my  dream  of  the  hap- 
piness that  was  to  await  us  upon  this  our  return  to  our  native 
country.  You  Avill  hereafter  feel  so  entirely  at  ease,  and  William 
can  now  devote  himself  to  such  pursuits  as  inclination  or  ambition 
might  present,  with  no  fears  in  regard  to  the  future.  How  would 
the  heart  of  dear  Louise  bound  with  rapture,  could  she  now  know 
the  good  fortune  that  awaits  her." 

"  And  she  shall  know  it,"  said  the  father,  "  as  soon  as  a  letter 
can  bear  her  the  information.  I  shall  at  once  transmit  the  whole 
of  the  amount  paid  me  to  be  safely  invested  in  the  United  States, 
far  away  from  all  danger  from  revolutions  or  change  of  govern- 
ment." 

Each  day  was  now  crowded  with  occupation  for  our  fair 
heroine.  The  very  earliest  dawn  found  her  awake,  and  preparing 
for  some  pleasant  promenade  with  her  father.  Old  scenes  were 
again  to  be  visited ;  the  great  improvements  which  had  been 
made  in  Paris — the  arches,  the  bridges,  the  buildings,  and  the 
monuments,  which  the  indomitable  energy  of  Napoleon  had 
caused  to  be  erected — were  to  Lefort  objects  of  the  greatest 
interest.  But  few  hours  could  be  snatched  from  calls  and  visits, 
so  wide  was  the  circle  of  acquaintance  of  her  father. 

The  old  friends  of  Lefort  had  vied  with  each  other  in  the  mag- 
nificent fetes  which  they  had  made  for  him  and  his  daughter,  who 
were  objects  of  especial  interest,  not  only  from  their  high  birth, 
but  from  the  great  vicissitudes  which  had  marked  their  career. 
They  could  scarcely  understand  how  it  was  that  the  family  of 
Lefort  could  give  up  Paris,  with  all  its  attractions,  the  high  posi- 
12 


266  woman's   faith. 

tion  offered  him  by  the  king,  and  all  the  advantages  of  wealth, 
for  a  honae  in  the  wilds  of  America.  They  listened  to  the  beau- 
tiful descriptions  of  Blanche  with  the  same  feeling  that  they 
would  have  regarded  the  glowing  pictures  of  a  romance.  In 
their  estimation,  one  might  as  well  be  out  of  the  world  as  out  of 
Paris, 


A    TALE     OF   SOUTHERN     LIFE.  267 


CHAPTER   LIV. 

Lefort  had  now  passed  several  months  in  Paris.  His  accom- 
plished manners,  his  long  residence  in  England  and  America,  hia 
early  splendid  career,  caused  his  society  to  be  sought  with  eager- 
ness at  the  Chateau  de  St.  Cloud. 

Charles  X.  delighted  to  surround  himself  with  those  whom 
he  had  known  in  his  earlier  years,  who  had  suffered  with  him- 
self the  pains  of  exile,  through  whose  veins  noble  blood  had 
coursed  for  ages  past.  He  merely  tolerated  those  who  had  won 
their  badges  of  distinction  with  their  swords ;  the  military  rank, 
though  blazing  with  golden  decorations  conferred  for  brilliant 
services  upon  many  a  hard-fought  field,  was  compelled  to  give 
place,  in  the  eye  of  the  king,  to  those  hereditary  titles,  which 
dated  back  through  long  line  of  ages. 

The  acute,  philosophical  mind  of  Lefort,  schooled  as  it  had  been 
by  experience,  by  reflection,  and  by  close  study  of  history,  per- 
ceived the  dangers  arising  from  dissentions,  from  heart-burnings, 
which  were  rife  among  even  the  loyalists  that  composed  the  court. 
He  felt  an  instinctive  dread  of  the  power  of  the  clergy.  The  king, 
with  all  his  fondness  for  pleasure  and  show,  was  still  a  devotee. 
That  the  church  should  be  restored  to  its  ancient  powerand  splen- 
dor was  the  object,  the  burning  desire  of  the  Catholic  priesthood^ 

The  people,  from  long  habit  and  under  the  splendid  reign  of  the 
emperor,  had  looked  with  contempt  upon  the  claims  of  the  clergy, 
and  saw  in  distinguished  service  only,  any  rightful  title  to  honor 
and  preferment. 


268  W  O  M  A  N  '  S     F  A  I  T  II . 

There  was  too,  at  this  time,  a  strong  and  powerful  party,  the 
bourgeoisie,  men  of  great  wealth  and  activity ;  affable  in  their 
manners,  and  favorites  with  the  people.  This  party  felt  their  pride 
stung  by  the  decided  preferences  shown  to  the  aristocracy  by  their 
monarch,  and  though  they  dreaded  a  revolution,  the  Duke  of 
Orleans  was  with  them  an  especial  favorite,  and  gladly  would  they 
have  seen  him  seated  upon  the  throne.  It  required  no  prophet's 
eye  to  foresee  the  turbulence  of  these  various  factions,  the  insecu- 
rity of  the  present  dynasty,  and  yet  no  prophet's  tongue  might  tell 
that  danger  to  the  ear  of  a  king,  which  had  been  deafened  by  flat- 
tery and  servility. 

With  all  parties  was  Lefort  an  especial  favorite.  The  high 
favor  of  the  king  had  secured  for  him  the  warm  regard  of  all  aris- 
tocratic circles,  while  the  ease  and  affability  of  his  demeanor,  his 
long  residence  in  republican  America,  rendered  him  an  object  of 
especial  interest  to  all  who  were  not  permitted  to  bask  in  the  sun- 
shine of  the  court. 

With  that  large,  intelligent,  and  wealthy  party  who  were  irri- 
tated by  the  haughty  demeanor  of  the  army  of  priests,  Lefort  saw 
how  great  was  the  sympathy  of  the  masses.  It  needed  but  a 
breath  to  fan  into  a  flame  the  smouldering  fires  which  should 
wrap  in  a  wide-spread  conflagration  the  throne,  with  all  its  gor- 
geous appendages. 

"  I  wish,  with  all  my  heart,  we  were  in  our  quiet  home  in  Ame- 
rica," said  Mr.  Lefort  to  his  daughter. 

"  Why,  what  danger  do  you  apprehend  ;  or  are  you  tired  of  the 
ceaseless  calls  made  upon  our  curiosity  or  our  civility  ?" 

"  I  see  no  cause  for  immediate  alarm,"  said  her  father,  "  none 
whatever  for  our  personal  safety.  But,  for  the  crown,  it  seems  to 
me  there  is  great  and  imminent  peril." 

"  Why  do  you  not,  father,  advise  his  majesty  of  your  apprehen- 
sions? Surely  he  would  listen  with  pleasure  to  suggestions  from 
one  of  your  great  experience,  the  more  so,  as  you  are  entirely  dia- 


A    TALE     OF     80UT1IEKN     LIFE.  269 

interested.  Do  you  not  owe  this  to  the  generosity  of  Charles,  to 
the  safety  of  his  people  ?" 

"  The  very  feeling,  Blanche,  of  obligation,  renders  my  position  so 
unpleasant.  I  see  the  blow  impending,  and  yet  have  no  power  to 
avert  it.  The  king  would  listen  with  his  very  good  nature  to 
whatever  I  might  say,  yet  would  attribute  my  uneasiness  to  the 
trembling  timidity  of  age.  The  counsels  of  no  minister  or  friend 
are  grateful  to  him,  but  those  which  tell  him  of  the  security  of  his 
throne  and  Empire." 

"  What  cause  can  there  be  for  apprehension  ?"  asked  Blanche. 
"  No  voice  is  raised  in  favor  of  the  empire,  and  the  most  powerful 
party  in  France  has  most  cause  to  dread  a  revolution.  Charles 
is  hardly  seated  upon  the  throne,  with  the  consent  of  those  who 
had  overthrown  the  imperial  government.  Why  should  they  wish 
his  dethronement,  the  subversion  of  his  empire,  while  they  -have 
scarcely  given  it  an  experiment  ?" 

"  You  have  not,  Blanche,  as  I  have,  seen  the  uncertainty  of 
power.  You  do  not  know  the  excitable  character  of  the  French 
people.  They  have  tasted  the  fatal  fruit  of  revolution.  It  required 
the  iron  will  and  arm  of  Napoleon  to  restrain  them.  And  now 
they  look  with  hungry  eyes  to  the  large  estates  centered  in  the 
nobility  and  the  church,  and  upon  any  day  or  hour,  armed  bands 
may  parade  the  streets,  and  deluge  with  blood  the  halls  of  the 
palaces." 

"  I  hope,  dear  father,  your  fears  may  prove  untrue.  The  terri  - 
ble  revolution  you  have  witnessed,  and  your  long  quiet  abode  in 
your  peaceful  home  in  Louisiana,  may,  perhaps,  have  winged  youi 
imagination,  and  it  has  taken  a  flight  to  those  scenes  of  horror 
depicted  upon  your  memory,  and  thus  created  unnecessary 
alarm." 

"  Most  devoutly  do  I  hope  so,  yet  my  calmest  judgment  tells  me 
of  the  dangers  of  the  future." 


270  woman's   faith. 


CHAPTER    LV. 

Lefort  and  Blanche  had  been  invited  to  a  grand  fete  given  by 
the  Duke  of  Orleans,  to  the  king  and  queen  of  Naples.  It  was 
to  be  a  most  sumptuous  and  magnificent  entertainment.  The 
Palais  Royal,  with  its  immense  apartments  was  to  be  crowded  to 
its  very  dome,  with  the  very  ilite  of  the  most  brilliant  court  in 
Europe.  The  evening  arrived.  All  the  avenues  to  the  palace 
were  crowded  with  the  splendid  equipages  of  those  who  were  to 
grace  the  occasion.  Thousands,  arrayed  in  most  superb  and  costly 
attire,  were  now  enjoying  the  festivities  of  a  scene,  glittering  with 
all  the  fascination  which  Paris  even  could  afford. 

The  palace  blazed  with  the  light  reflected  from  sparkling  chan- 
deliers, while  softening  rays  from  lamps  suspended  upon  the  trees 
in  the  gardens,  and  along  the  walks,  gave  an  almost  magical 
charm  to  the  magnificently  decorated  apartments.  Upon  the  fresh 
night  breeze  was  borne  the  most  delightful  perfumes  from  the 
orange  and  rose,  imparting  an  unexpected  gratification  for  that 
gay  and  brilliant  company. 

The  generosity  of  the  duke,  perhaps,  some  other  consideration, 
appealing  to  the  popular  favor,  or  to  keep  himself,  as  his  enemies 
declared,  full  in  the  eye  of  an  excited  influential  public,  induced 
him  to  throw  open  to  thousands  of  spectators,  those  spacious 
grounds,  that  tbey  might  witness  the  magnificent  display  of  ele- 
gance and  fashion.  He  had  lavished  gold  with  an  unsparing 
hand,  that  Frenchmen  might  see  that  he  held  his  vast  treasures  as 


A     TALE     OF     SOUTHERN     LIFE.  271 

naught,  in  comparison  with  the  happiness  they  might  confer  upon 
his  guests  and  friends. 

The  smile  of  joy  brightened  the  fair  cheek  of  beauty,  the  easy 
grace  and  elegant  accomplishments  of  the  high-born  cavalier,  lent 
a  charm  to  the  assembly.  Powerful  and  influential  from  their 
great  wealth,  the  liberals,  the  leaders  of  the  bourgeoisie,  were,  in 
great  numbers  present.  The  king,  contrary  to  the  advice  of  his  ' 
courtiers,  had  accepted  the  invitation  of  the  son  of  Philip  Egalite. 
At  the  announcement  of  the  approach  of  the  monarch,  the  duke 
hastened  to  receive  his  royal  visitor. 

Gracefully  bowing  low,  "My  noble  liege,"  said  the  duke, 
"  will  accept  the  unfeigned  gratitude  and  devotion  of  his  most 
loyal  subject,  for  this  high  proof  of  his  regard.  The  smile  of 
royalty  will  reflect  a  lustre  upon  this  occasion,  which  will  make  its 
remembrance  even  a  perpetual  joy." 

"  Thanks  for  your  courtesy,  my  noble  duke,"  replied  the  king. 
"  Aware  of  the  presence  of  this  goodly  company,  which  your  hospi- 
tality has  here  assembled,  we  could  not  deny  ourself  the  pleasure 
of  sharing  in  the  general  happiness.  Will  the  duchess  permit  me 
the  favor  of  her  hand  for  the  dance  ?  The  fair  beauties  which 
grace  our  realm,  I  see  are  impatient  that  it  should  commence." 

Strains  of  music  most  sweet  and  inspiring,  now  floated  through 
the  halls,  seconding  the  command  of  the  pleasure-loving  monarch. 
Enjoyment  was  at  its  highest.  Not  the  most  distant  sign  of 
danger  marred  the  festivities  of  the  hour. 

Suddenly  loud  and  boisterous  shoutings  were  heard  in  the  gar- 
dens. Those  who  had  sought  them  for  a  promenade  midst  the 
delightful  shades,  as  did  the  inmates  of  the  palace,  at  first  sup- 
posed that  these  sounds  were  but  the  outbursts  of  wild  merri- 
ment on  this  festal  night.  But  soon  the  general  uproar  was 
increased ;  lamps,  with  burning  oil,  were  hurled  over  the  gardens, 
and  angry  voices  were  uttering  some  fierce  revolutionary  senti- 
ments. 


272  »       woman's  faith. 

So  unexpected,  so  strange  was  the  movement  tliat  many  had 
not  perceived  it.  Ladies  at  the  windows,  engaged  in  playful  con- 
versation, were  suddenly  assaulted  by  some  rude  and  violent 
remark,  while  a  grim,  hideous  face  was  thrust  upon  her,  even  when 
replying  to  the  gallant  words  of  her  vis-d-vis. 

Many  were  wild  with  aflfright.  Consternation  now  expelled  the 
rose  from  the  cheek  of  beauty,  while  their  gay  cavaliers  grasped 
the  swords  which  were  hanging  as  ornaments  at  their  sides. 

The  firm  voice  of  the  duke  was  heard  above  all  the  din  and 
uproar,  inquiring  what  rude,  mad  violence  takes  advantage  of  the 
hospitality,  which  kindly  threw  open  these  palace  gates,  and 
would  now  mar  the  happiness  of  those,  who  have  honored  the 
Duke  of  Orleans  by  their  presence  here.  "  Fear  not,  fair  ladies," 
said  he,  "  cowardice,  the  most  dastardly  has  wrought  this 
mischief,  and  will  quickly  hide  itself  from  observation.  But  that 
there  may  be  no  room  for  the  slightest  apprehension,  troops  have 
been  ordered,  and  even  now  are  stationed  in  the  gardens." 

Order  and  quiet  was  at  once  restored.  Significant  glances, 
however,  were  exchanged  among  the  courtiers  of  the  king,  who 
had  regarded,  with  stifled  displeasure,  the  acceptance  of  the 
invitation  of  the  duke. 

"  Why,"  whispered  they,  *'  were  so  many  of  the  liberal,  those 
■who  could  dazzle  the  crowd  by  their  wealth,  summoned  to  this 
fete  ?  Why  was  that  Prince  of  the  Bourse,  M.  LaflBtte,  treated 
with  such  marked  attention  by  the  duke  ?  Mayhap  he  sees  in 
the  old  age  of  our  noble  Charles,  in  his  love  of  ease  and  pleasure, 
an  unwillingness  to  fight  for  his  crown,  and  that  the  liberals,  who 
regard  with  such  a  deadly  hate,  the  noblesse  and  the  clergy, 
would  gladly  take  the  sceptre  from  the  House  of  Bourbon,  and 
entrust  it  to  the  keeping  of  the  House  of  Orleans." 

Such  were  the  scarcely  repressed  remarks  of  many  a  haughty 
cavalier,  who,  though  accepting  the  invitation  of  the  duke, 
regarded  him  with  feelings  of  unmeasured  hostility.     Others  more 


A     TALE     OF     SOUTUERN     LIFE.  273 

moderate,  and  more  far-seeing,  who  were  not  blinded  by  tbeir 
admiration  for  their  king ;  who  saw  in  the  intense  jealousy  of  the 
middling  classes,  their  ill-concealed  vexation  at  the  favor  witli, 
which  the  crown  regarded  the  overbearing  conduct  and  preten- 
sions of  the  nobility,  the  haughty  and  high  demands  of  the 
priests,  the  cause  for  this  emeute.  They  had  the  manliness  to  free 
the  duke  from  any  shade  of  suspicion  of  exciting  or  countenanc- 
ing a  movement,  which  would  be  such  a  flagrant  breach  of 
hospitality. 

But  whatever  might  be  the  views  or  feelings  of  the  various 
persons  who  graced  that  ball  by  their  presence,  it  was  in  vain  to 
attempt  to  restore  the  hilarity,  which  had  been  so  inappropriately 
disturbed.  Too  many  disagreeable  reminiscences  had  been 
awakened ;  scenes  similar  to  this,  which  had  terminated  in 
horrors  indescribable,  were  fresh  in  the  memories  of  many  now 
present,  and  it  was  impossible  to  throw  off  the  weight  which 
rested  upon  their  spirits.  With  kind  adieus,  and  regrets  kindly 
expressed,  that  this  occurrence  should  have  taken  place,  all  now 
separated  for  their  several  homes. 


la* 


274  woman's  faith. 


•^^  CHAPTER   LVI. 

"  I  COULD  not  but  admire  the  calm  demeanor  you  displayed, 
dear  Blanche,"  said  her  father,  "  last  night  at  the  fete,  given  by 
the  Duke  of  Orleans." 

"I  saw  no  occasion,  dear  father,"  replied  Blanche,  "for  the 
great  terror  which  was  not  only  depicted  upon  the  faces  of  the 
ladies,  but  which  blanched  the  countenance  of  many  a  cavalier, 
who,  up  to  the  moment  of  the  confusion,  by  the  haughtiness  of 
his  manner  and  address,  would  apparently  have  faced  a  battery, 
without  the  blenching  of  an  eye.  Pray,  tell  me,  what  was  the 
occasion  of  the  uproar  ?" 

"  It  was  much  more  serious  than  appeared  to  a  spectator,  who 
knew  not  how  easily  the  populace  of  Paris  may  be  aroused,  and 
how  deep  is  their  hostility  to  many  of  the  measures  of  the  king. 
If  I  do  not  greatly  mistake  the  signs  of  the  times,  the  popular 
feeling,  France  is  on  the  eve  of  a  revolution." 

"  I  heard  it  intimated,"  said  Blanche,  "  by  several  of  the 
nobility,  that  the  Duke  of  Orleans  fomented  this  revolutionary 
spirit  among  the  people.     Do  you  think  so  father  ?" 

"  I  can  scarcely  answer  your  question,"  said  Mr.  Lefort.  "  The 
duke  is  a  man  of  great  wisdom  and  experience.  He  is  not  want- 
ing in  ambition.  He  knows  full  well  the  effect  of  certain  mea- 
sures, which  the  king,  backed  by  the  nobility  and  the  clerg)',  are 
decided  upon  carrying  out  If  the  king  insists  upon  the  ordi- 
nances, the  days  of  his  reign  are  ended.  In  that  event,  the  Duke 
of  Orleans,  who  was,  at  the  time  of  the  restoration,  a  favorite  of 


A    TALE    OF    80TJTHEEN    LIFE.  2Y5 

Laffitte,  and  of  the  influential  party,  of  which  he  is  leader,  would 
be  placed  at  the  head  of  a  liberal  government.  I  have  freely 
and  frankly  given  my  views  to  some  of  those,  who  seem  most 
influential  with  the  king;  but  though  they  listen  with  great 
politeness,  I  perceive  my  ideas  are  diametrically  opposite  to  their 
own,  and  are  little  regarded." 

"What  are  these  ordinances  against  which  so  much  popular 
fury  is  aroused  ?"  said  Blanche. 

"  They  strike  at  the  liberty  of  the  press,  and  specially  favor  the 
nobility  and  the  clergy,"  said  her  father.  "  They  are  obnoxious 
to  great  objection,  but  were  they  not,  in  the  present  temper  of 
the  public  mind,  it  would  be  a  fatal  step,  on  the  part  of  the 
monarch,  to  insist  upon  their  passage.  You  now  know  my  senti- 
ments, and  will  readily  perceive  how  near  I  think  we  are  to  a 
coup  cfetaV 

"  Why,  then,"  said  Blanche,  "  remain  in  France  ?  It  is  well 
known  that  you  have  always  favored  the  Bourbon  line,  and  are 
now  an  especial  favorite  of  Charles :  you  will  become  an  object 
of  the  popular  fury." 

"I  shall  steer  clear,  as  far  as  possible,  of  all  political  cabals," 
replied  Mr.  Lefort;  "and  soon,  I  hope,  we  may  return  to  our 
adopted  country.  I  would  fain  stay,  that  I  might,  if  possible, 
arrest  the  blow,  which  I  see  impending  over  ,the  head  of  a  sove- 
reign so  kind  as  is  Charles  X." 

During  all  this  time,  or  rather  for  a  few  days  past,  there  had 
been  in  Paris  one  who  watched,  with  deepest  interest,  everything 
that  concerned  the  safety  of  Blanche  or  her  father.  In  that  large 
and  numerous  assembly  of  more  than  three  thousand  persons,  he 
was  present,  though  he  carefully  concealed  himself  from  observa- 
tion. Our  readers  will  at  once  suspect  that  the  person  indicated 
was  none  other  than  Charles  Grafton.  He  had  been  solicited  by 
his  own  government  to  proceed  as  a  special  messenger  to  France, 
and  urge  upon  the  attention  of  the  king  the  final  settlement  of 


276  woman's  faith. 

those  claims  which  were  justly  due  from  France  to  tlie  citizens  of 
the  United  States. 

In  that  large  concourse,  unobserved,  Charles  Grafton  had,  after 
long  years  of  separation,  seen  once  more  the  peerless  Blanche. 
Again  had  he  listened  to  those  rich,  musical  tones,  that  had  sent  a 
thrill  through  his  very  soul.  He  had  remarked  with  what  dig- 
nity she  received  the  flattering  attentions  of  those  elegant,  proud 
cavaliers,  whose  ancestry,  for  ages  past,  in  the  highest  walks  of 
life,  had  been  distinguished. 

"  She  is  a  little  changed,"  said  he  to  himself,  "  but  for  the  bet- 
ter. There  are  the  same  expressive  eyes,  lighting  up  her  lovely 
countenance  with  intelligence ;  the  same  brilliant  complexion,  the 
same  ease  and  grace  of  manner,  which  at  once  won  my  love  and 
admiration.  She  seemed  as  much  at  ease,  when  in  conversation 
with  the  king,  as  if  talking  with  an  elegant  gentleman  in  her  own 
drawing-room,  at  Oak  Lawn.  How  beautifully  she  described 
to  him  that  charming  spot,  and  with  what  naivete  she  replied 
to  the  flattering  compliments  of  the  old  monarch.  How  grace- 
fully she  spoke  of  the  republican  simplicity  and  undisturbed 
happiness  which  prevailed  at  their  adopted  home.  And,  then, 
with  what  singular  felicity  of  expression,  did  she  allude  to  the 
noble  generosity  of  the  king,  now  shown  to  the  friends  of  his 
earlier  years,  whose  long  exile  and  whose  sufierings  were  all  now 
forgotten  in  the  benignity  of  their  prince.  How  touchingly  did 
she  remark,  '  And  our  home,  sire,  thousands  of  miles  hence,  will 
wear  a  new  smile,  from  the  gracidus,  generous  conduct  which 
restored,  unsolicited,  the  estates  of  my  father.'  And  with  what 
a  modest  gratitude  she  heard  him  reply,  '  It  was  but  a  right,'  and 
placing  upon  her  hand  a  brilliant  ring,  'wear  this  gem,  my 
daughter,  as  a  token  of  the  high  regard  in  which  I  shall  ever  hold 
the  services  of  your  father.'  " 

We  will,  with  permission  of  our  readers,  for  a  moment  retrace 
our  steps  upon  this  "  owre  true  tale,"  and  give  some  accoimt  of  our 


\ 

A    TALE    OF    SOUTHERN    LIFE,  277 

hero,  whom  we  Lad  necessarily  left  with  his  own  occupa- 
tions. 

True  to  the  affection  which  once  had  enthroned  in  his  breast 
the  image  of  her  who  had  first  awakened  within  him  an  almost 
hopeless,  yet  undying  sentiment,  Charles  Grafton  listened  not  to 
suggestions  which  would  form  for  him  an  alliance  that  all  might 
envy.  Marriage  he  regarded  as  a  source  of  the  highest  happiness, 
or  the  most  unmingled  bitterness.  Mutual  regard  and  mutual 
afiection,  a  confidence  which  reposes  the  secrets  of  the  innermost 
chamber  of  the  soul,  a  love  unblighted,  true  as  the  needle  to  the 
pole,  were,  in  his  estimation,  absolute  requisites  for  those  who 
were  to  assume  the  vows  and  responsibilities  of  matrimony. 
Upon  this  subject,  his  feelings  wei'e  morbidly  sensitive.  His  deli- 
cate sense  of  honor,  his  high  principle,  was  shocked  at  the 
unblushing  "immoralities"  which  were  rife  even  at  our  republican 
courts. 

The  snow-flake,  whose  purity  would  be  marred,  and  whose 
beauty  lost,  by  the  blackening  mote,  was,  to  his  mind,  an  emblem 
of  woman's  virtue.  The  polished  steel,  whose  beauty  and  whose 
excellence  a  breath  would  tarnish  and  corrode,  was  the  counter- 
part of  man's  fidelity.  His  sentiments  were  all  true  and  exalted. 
Again  and  again  had  he  asked  himself,  "  How  is  it  possible,  that 
for  Blancl^e  my  regard  and  interest  has  known  no  change ;  that 
to-day  I  love  her  with  all  the  intensity  which  years  ago  prompted 
the  most  devoted  attentions,  and  that  in  her  bosom  there  should  be 
no  corresponding  emotions  ?" 

Charles -had  been  surprised  that  she  remained  unmarried,  after 
the  rumors  he  had  heard,  and  again  and  again  determined  he 
would  learn  her  history  from  Burns.  But,  as  is  ever  the  case  with 
men,  in  whose  hearts  are  glowing  a  high  sense  of  dignity,  if  not 
self-etseem,  they  would  perish  before  they  would  reveal  to  each 
other  those  secrets,  which  they  fully  and  freely  disclose  to  the 
delicate  ear  of  woman. 


278  woman's   faith 

Just  before  the  close  of  a  session  of  Congress,  Bums  had 
received  from  home  a  letter  from  Louise,  giving  him  a  full 
account  of  the  proposals  on  the  part  of  Carneal  to  Blanche,  the 
great  anxiety  she  had  felt,  the  hopes  and  fears  of  the  father,  and 
the  final  and  most  happy  termination  of  the  affair.  She  also 
informed  him  of  the  determination  of  her  father  to  visit  France 
with  Blanche.  Charles  Grafton  had  called,  preparatory  to  his 
leaving  for  Virginia. 


A    TALE    OF    80UTHEKN    LIFE.  279 


CHAPTER    LVII. 

"  What,  you  do  not  depart  from  Washington  before  the  close 
of  the  session  ?"  said  William  Bums  to  Grafton. 

"I  think  of  it,"  said  Grafton.  "The  Executive  has  kindly 
urged  upon  me  a  secret  mission  to  Paris.  He  does  me  the  great 
honor  of  attributing  to  me  peculiar  fitness  for  this  service.  At 
one  time,  you  know,  I  had  quite  a  passion  for  a  knowledge  of  the 
French  people  and  their  politics,  and  have  made  myself  familiar 
with  the  eventful  history  of  that  distinguished  nation.  And,  to 
perfect  myself,  under  the  best  masters,  have  acquired  such  fami- 
liarity with  the  language,  that  I  converse  as  readily  in  French  as 
in  English." 

"  I  have  heard,"  said  Bums,  "  Frenchmen  say,  that  you  spoke 
their  language  with  the  ease  and  elegance  of  a  Parisian.  But,  if 
it  is  not  a  political  secret,  what  induces  the  Executive  to  dispatch 
you  to  Paris  ?" 

"  The  President  says  that  this  time  seems  to  be  propitious  for 
a  settlement  of  those  vexatious  questions  growing  out  of  the  Ber- 
lin and  Milan  decrees ;  that  our  citizens,  who  have  suffered  from 
those  orders,  are  clamorous  for  redress,  and  he  greatly  desires 
that  every  influence  should  be  used  with  Charles  X.,  to  induce 
him  to  do  justice  in  this  matter." 

"  I  am  right  glad  you  have  mentioned  this,"  said  Burns ;  "  and 
most  heartily  do  I  hope  you  will  yield  to  the  wishes  of  the  Presi- 
dent. Sure  I  am,  no  one  could  be  selected  whose  qualifications  so 
adapted  him  for  this  mission.    I  think  you  understand  the  wily 


280  woman's   faith. 

policy  which  obtains  at  the  Court  o''  France,  and  you  nave  the 
address  requisite  to  cope  with  it.  I  have  just  learned,  by  letter 
frona  Mrs.  Burns,  that  her  father  is  on  the  eve  of  departure  for 
France.  He  goes  upon  business,  and  you  may  mutually  aid  each 
other." 

"  Does  he  go  alone,  and  how  soon  will  he  be  in  Paris  ?"  said 
Grafton. 

"  His  daughter  Blanche  will  accompany  him.  She  has  suffered 
greatly  from  affliction,  in  the  death  of  her  mother,  and  her  health 
demands,  for  its  re-establishment,  new  scenes  and  new  occupations. 
And  her  devotion  to  her  father  would  not  permit  him  to  leave 
home  alone  for  so  long  an  absence.  She  is  one  of  the  noblest 
daughters  that  heaven  ever  vouchsafed  to  a  parent." 

"  I  have  one  request,"  said  Grafton,  "  to  make  of  you.  Bums, 
and  that  is,  that  you  will  mention  to  no  one  that  I  am  to  leave 
America,  and  particularly  to  any  member  of  your  family.  I  will 
one  day  give  you  my  reason.  Perhaps  it  is  hardly  important  to 
have  spoken  pf  it,  but,  for  certain  considerations,  I  especially 
desire  that  at  present  my  departure  should  remain  a  secret  from 
any  one." 

How  did  the  heart  of  Grafton  glow  with  the  desire  to  make 
those  definite  inquiries  of  Burns,  concerning  Blanche,  which  were 
so  interesting  to  him.  Her  health  was  suffering,  the  loss  of  a 
mother  so  worthy  of  her  love,  and  affectionate  remembrance, 
might  well  prompt  that  depressing  sorrow,  which  was  undermin- 
ing her  constitution.  All  my  past,  so  far  as  it  regards  my  con- 
nection with  her,  seems  to  be  a  riddle.  I  left  her  a  few  years 
since — they  seem  an  age — a  most  lovely  and  fascinating  being,  full 
of  animation,  and  joy,  not  a  cloud  resting  upon  her  fair  brow,  her 
heart  overflowing  with  the  noblest  impulses.  I  have  heard  of  her 
passing  through  scenes  of  trial  and  distress  with  the  calm  courage 
of  coldest  philosophy,  and  ministering  to  the  sorrows  of  others, 
with  the  sweet  smile,  and  open  hand  of  angelia  nature,  and  at  thii 


A    TALE     OF     SOITTHERN    LIFE.  281 

time  her  own  spirits  are  prostrated  beneath  a  blow,  which  all  the 
influences  of  her  own  fine  intellect  must  fail  her  to  avert.  And 
now  that  I  know,  in  some  degree  at  least,  the  strength  of  her 
affections,  the  sweetness  of  her  disposition,  that  constancy  and 
truth  are  with  her  prominent  characteristics,  it  does  seem  strange 
to  me  that  she  should  have  permitted  me  to  indulge  the  delightful 
hope,  of  one  day  winning  her,  a  hope  that  she  must,  from  her 
wonderful  perception  of  the  human  heart,  have  known,  was  with 
me  so  bright  in  its  anticipations. 

And  yet  may  there  not  be  some  mistake,  some  misapprehen- 
sion ?  The  letter  of  her  father  surely  was  sufficiently  explicit,  but 
may  not  some  false  and  idle  report  in  regard  to  my  own  conduct, 
have  induced  it,  or  may  not  she  have  been  impelled  by  others  to 
have  consented  that  that  letter  should  have  been  written.  Might 
it  not  have  been  dispatched  without  her  knowledge  even,  under 
the  expectation  that  she  was  about  to  marry  according  to  the 
inclinations  of  her  relatives.  She  is  not  now  married,  and  if  her 
faith  was  plighted  to  another,  surely  he  would  accompany  her 
upon  this  perilous  journey.  Never  had  I  expected  to  see  her 
again ;  the  very  idea  of  going  to  Louisiana,  associated  with  that 
region  is  so  much  of  wretchedness,  and  learning  from  her  lips  that 
she  could  not  be  mine,  would  be  the  sublimation  of  woe.  It  seems 
almost  Providential,  that  at  the  same  time  /we  should  be  going  to 
a  far  distant  city,  and  almost  necessarily  thrown  together,  from 
similar  objects  in  our  vfsit.  With  what  diligence  will  I  scan  her 
feelings,  if  chance  should  bring  about  a  meeting.  Gladly  would  I, 
unobserved  by  her,  meet  her-  at^  some  large  assemblage,  and  dis- 
cover, if  possible,  the  workings  of  her  heart.  Intensely  would  I 
study  her  every  act,  the  expression  of  lier  speaking  countenance, 
her  conduct  when  surrounded  by  the  glitter  of  wealth  and  fashion, 
and  by  the  revealings  of  her  exterior  being,  learn,  if  it  were  possi- 
ble, what  might  be  the  thoughts  and  feelings  which  prompted 
them. 


282  woman's   faith. 

Surely  that  eye,  so  expressive  of  the  workings  of  her  miud,  vrill 
tell  through  my  vision  some  of  the  secrets,  which  may  be  buried 
in  her  soul.  Words  cannot  express  the  happiness,  which  the 
thought  of  meeting  Blanche  imparts.  Once  more  to  be  near  her, 
to  look  upon  that  lovely  face  will  be  a  joy,  which  for  years  I  have 
not  known.  And  if  it  should  be  in  my  power,  by  any  means,  to 
further  the  objects,  for  which  they  go  to  Paris,  great  will  be  my 
gratification.  But  I  will  dream  no  longer ;  these  airy  speculations 
would  better  become  some  more  youthful  fancy. 

Such  were  the  thoughts  crowding  the  mind  of  Grafton,  and  he 
fancied  himself  in  the  gayest  metropolis  of  the  world.  Ambitious 
as  he  was,  and  desirous  of  successfully  accomplishing  the  object 
of  his  mission,  pleasant  as  was  the  thought  of  visiting  a  city  so 
renowned,  and  so  full  of  interest,  there  was  in  his  mind  an  image 
so  bright,  one  scene  so  deeply  engaging,  that  little  room  was  found 
there  for  other  considerations. 


A    TALE    OF    SOUTHEKN     LIFE.  283 


CHAPTER   LVIII. 

Charles  Grafion  had  now  been  for  some  time  in  Paris.  So 
fluctuating  was  the  conduct  of  the  ministry  of  the  king,  such 
plots  and  counterplots  on  the  part  of  those  who  regarded  with 
hostility  the  reigning  dynasty,  and  those  whose  interests  were 
promoted  in  sustaining  it,  so  unsettled,  indeed,  were  all  the  mea- 
sures of  the  government,  that  Grafton  made  but  little  progress  in 
the  object  of  his  embassy.  The  old  king,  charmed  by  the  elegant 
manners  and  ready  powers  of  mind,  which  distinguished  the  repre- 
sentative of  America,  flattered  by  that  insinuating  address,  which 
appealed  to  his  justice  and  magnanimity  to  redress  the  wrongs 
occasioned  by  the  unjust  decrees  of  a  military  dictator,  and  which 
were  a  blot  upon  the  fair  escutcheon  of  the  earliest  friend  and  ally 
of  the  United  States,  readily  promised  that  prompt  and  full  indem- 
nification should  be  made.  But  on  the  morrow  new  influences 
would  step  in  to  hinder  the  accomplishment  of  his  promise,  and 
like  most  governmental  difliculties,  was  shoved  aside  by  astute 
ministers,  inasmuch  as  the  policy  of  action  was  somewhat  ques- 
tionable. 

With  the  ministry,  Grafton  put  on  a  haughtier  manner,  and 
assured  them,  that  grateful  as  his  country  felt  for  the  early  kind- 
ness extended  by  theirs  in  the  hour  of  peril,  and  averse  as  she 
would  be  to  coercive  measures,  that  as  the  claim  was  on  all  hands 
acknowledged  to  be  just,  a  large  and  influential  party  in  the  United 
States  insisted  upon  reprisals,  if  France  should  be  longer  deaf  to 
the  voice  of  justice  and  right.  These  views,  though  expressed 
with  extreme  prudence  and  caution,  were  wounding  to  the  pride 


284:  woman's   faith. 

of  the  nation,  but  critical  as  was  the  condition  of  France,  from 
internal  dissensions,  so  menacing  was  a  revolution,  that  such  a 
course  of  conduct,  on  the  part  of  Grafton,  had  great  Aveight  in 
calling  immediate  attention  to  this  claim  presented  by  him  for 
adjustment.  But  all  his  hopes  and  expectations  were  doomed  to 
be  frustrated  by  an  event  which  had  occurred  sooner  than  the  most 
sanguine  hostility  to  the  king  had  anticipated. 

The  public  journals  were  loud  and  violent  in  their  appeals 
against  the  tyranny  which  sought  to  muzzle  them  by  new  ordi- 
nances. A  few  young  men,  full  of  the  fire  of  enthusiasm,  were 
making  an  occasional  harangue,  while  some  half-besotted  work- 
men threw  stones  at  the  carriajre  of  M.  de  Poliiynac.  Such  was 
the  commencement  of  an  insurrection  that  was  leading  with  hur- 
ried steps  to  revolution. 

The  timid  were  aroused,  and  emboldened  by  being  assured  that 
they  had  already  committed  themselves,  and  that  their  punishment 
was  inevitable.  The  madness,  the  fatal  mistakes  of  the  king  and 
his  ministers,  in  first  despising  the  outbreak,  and  then,  in  the  meas- 
ures adopted  to  put  it  down,  hurried  on  the  terrible  catastrophe. 
All  the  horrors  of  a  civil  war  were  now  felt  in  Paris.  Blood 
flowed  in  the  streets  in  torrents.  The  leader  of  the  royal  troops, 
knowing  that  the  ordinances  which  they  esteemed  illegal,  and 
unjust,  had  occasioned  the  rising  of  the  people,  hesitated  to  fire 
upon  them,  and  did  it  liut  in  strict  self-defence. 

But  we  will  not  trench  upon  the  province  of  history  in  alluding 
to  the  revolution,  which  deposed  Charles  X.,  when  as  yet  he  was 
scarcely  seated  upon  his  throne,  but  only  touch  upon  it,  as  it  deeply 
affected  the  future  of  the  hero  and  heroine  of  our  tale. 

Lefort  had  accompanied  some  of  his  earlier  and  strongest  friends 
in  a  visit  to  the  king,  to  urge  upon  him  a  change  of  measures. 
They  assured  him  that  the  danger  was  most  imminent,  that  he 
was  deceived  by  those  courtiers,  who,  from  ignorance  or  pusilla- 
nimity, were  flattering  him  with  assurances  of  his  security.     A 


A.     TALE     OF     SOUTHERN     LIFE.  285 

loud  and  popular  outbreak  was  heard  at  the  doors  even  of  the 
palace  ;  <rries  that  the  people  were  beihg  murdered  by  foreign  mer- 
cenaries, and  that  the  king  and  his  courtiers  were  hostile  to  the 
best  interests  of  France,  rang  through  those  vaulted  chambers. 

The  populace  were  now  madly,  and  in  great  numbers,  rushing 
to  the  chateau  of  the  king,  and  some  were  clamoring  for  his  head- 
Not  the  head  of  Charles  only,  but  the  heads  of  his  ministers  and 
advisers,  shouted  others.  Darkness  was  lending  horror  and  terror 
to  those  dreadful  scenes. 

Calmly  and  courageously  was  Lefori  engaged,  in  counselling  the 
intruders  to  pacific  measures,  appealing  to  the  gallantry  of  the 
French,  and  asking  if  men  would  be  so  cowardly,  as  to  strike  at 
the  honored  person  of  an  unarmed  king  and  his  family. 

At  this  moment,  a  brawny,  giant  arm  was  raised  holding  an 
axe,  and  the  life  of  the  gallant  Lefort  would  in  a  moment  more 
have  been  sacrificed,  when  his  assailant  felt  himself  in  the  powerful 
grasp  of  Charles  Grafton.  Hurling  the  ruflBan  to  the  ground,  and 
by  the  energy  of  his  tone  and  manner,  his  manly  form  swelling 
with  the  excitement  of  the  occasion,  the  crowd  involuntarily  opened 
a  way,  through  which  he  led  the  father  of  her,  whom  he  so  idol- 
ized. So  imminent  was  the  peril,  so  unexpected  the  deliverance, 
that  for  the  moment,  Lefort  was  struck  dumb  with  astonishment. 
The  noise  and  confusion  of  contending  factions  in  the  streets, 
armed  companies  of  soldiers  vainly  endeavoring  to  resist  the  pro- 
gress of  desperate  citizens,  the  firing  from  the  windows  of  the 
houses,  the  groans  of  the  wounded  mingling  with  the  shouts  of  the 
leaders  of  the  rebellion,  so  impeded  the  movements  of  Lefort  and 
his  rescuer,  that  no  opportunity  was  afibrded  for  explanation. 
Hurrying  on,  at  last  they  reached  the  hotel,  where  almost  wild  with 
affright,  Blanche  was  lamenting  the  absence  of  her  father,  exposed, 
as  she  feared  he  was,  to  the  most  fearful  danger.  Amazement 
sealed  her  lips  ;  she  could  only  look  her  gratitude  through  brimful 
eyes,  when  Lefort  broke  the  silence. 


286  woman's     FAITH. 

"  You  have  to  thank  the  energy  and  courage  of  Mr.  Grafton, 
Blanche,  that  you  have  now  a  father.  But  for  him,  a  brutal  hand, 
armed  with  a  deadly  axe,  would  have  dealt  a  fatal  blow  upon  my 
defenceless  head." 

In  vain  did  Blanche  essay  to  restrain  the  emotions  of  her  heart, 
that  she  might  express  her  thanks.  The  surpi-ise  of  this  meeting, 
so  unlooked  for,  so  imexpected,  that  the  idol  of  her  soul  sho«ld 
thus  appear  as  the  deliverer  of  her  father,  the  love  that  glowed  in 
that  face  so  dear  to  her,  all  too  powerfully  aflfected  her  shattered 
strength,  and  she  fell  fainting  into  the  arms  of  Grafton. 


A  TALE     OF     SOTITHEKN     LIFE.  287 


CHAPTER    LIX. 

Upon  the  recovery  of  Blanche,  Grafton  was  about  to  retire  to  his 
own  lodgings.  He  was  fascinated,  spell-bound ;  yet  delicacy,  he 
thought,  required  that,  situated  as  he  was,  or  supposed  himself  to 
be,  with  the  family  of  Lefort,  he  should  take  his  leave.  Blanche 
had  now  found  words  to  express  her  grateful  sense  of  the  kind- 
ness, never  to  be  forgotten,  of  one  of  their  earliest  friends.  Mr. 
Lefort  insisted  that  Charles  should  remain  where  he  was. 

"  At  this  time  of  night,  it  would  be  madness  in  you  to  seek  your 
lodgings.  The  streets,  full  of  rioters,  and  of  those  who  seek  to 
expiate,  by  the  blood  of  some  man  of  distinction,  the  loss  of  one 
of  their  fellows.  I  pray  you,"  said  Mr.  Lefort,  "  add  to  the  obliga- 
tion we  are  already  under  to  you,  Mr.  Grafton,  by  remaining  at  our 
hotel,  at  least  until  the  morrow." 

"  Will  you  permit  me,  Mr.  Grafton,  to  second  my  father's  wish. 
Perhaps  it  may  appear  not  a  little  selfish,  but  I  think  it  behoves 
us  to  do  what  we  can  to  save  the  lives  of  our  defenders.  Li  times 
like  these,  we  know  not  the  value  of  the  strong  arm  and  the  strong 
heart ;  and  in  such  perils,  age  and  our  sex  are  privileged  to  call 
upon  those,  whose  courage  and  whose  powers  render  such  condi- 
tion safe  and  happy." 

"  I  am  the  proudest  cavalier  in  Paris,  Miss  Lefort,  to  be  sum- 
moned upon  this  service,  and,  with  great  pleasure,  shall  accept 
your  father's  invitation,"  said  Grafton. 

"  You  have  not  been  long  in  Paris,  Mr.  Grafton  ?"  said  Lefort, 


288  woman's     FAITH, 

"your  visit  is  soinewliat  inopportune,  if  pleasure  was  your 
object." 

"  I  came  on  especial  business,  under  the  orders  of  our  govern- 
ment ;  just  at  the  time  my  hopes  of  success  were  brightest,  this 
wild,  revolutionary  spirit  must  appear  to  mar  all  my  prospects. 
I  have  written  to  the  Cabinet  at  Washington,  informing  them  of 
the  untoward  circumstances,  and  that  nothing  more  can  be  done, 
at  least  for  the  present." 

"  AVill  you  remain  any  length  of  time  in  Paris  ?"  said  Lefort. 

"  But  a  few  days,"  replied  Grafton.  "  I  will  await  events,  and  if 
the  king  should  be  dethi'oned,  I  shall  go  to  London,  and  shortly 
take  passage  for  the  United  States." 

"  Had  Mr.  Burns  left  Washington  before  your  departure  ?" 
inquired  Blanche. 

"  Congress  was  to  have  adjourned  in  a  few  days,"  replied  Graf- 
ton, "  but  I  did  not  hear  from  him,  as  I  expected,  before  I  took 
passage  in  New  York  for  Havre." 

"  Did  he  tell  you  that  we  were  to  be  in  Paris  ?"  said  Blanche. 

"  He  did ;  and  I  inquired  you  out  a  few  days  since,"  replied 
Grafton. 

Grafton  was  now  seated  near  Blanche,  and  engaged  in  conver- 
sation, while  Lefort  was  reading  his  letters  from  America,  and 
some  exciting  articles  in  the  public  journals. 

"  You  seem  surprised,"  said  Grafton  to  Blanche,  "  that  I  did  not 
call  and  see  you  immediately  upon  my  arrival.  Again  and  again 
have  I  seen  you  upon  your  balcony,  and  at  tlie  splendid  fete  given 
by  the  Duke  of  Orleans,  I  had  the  pleasure  of  seeing  and  hearing 
you." 

"  Why,  Mr.  Grafton,  did  you  not  speak  to  us  ?"  said  Blanche. 
"  What  cause  can  there  be  for  conduct  to  me  so  unaccountable  ?" 

"  Strange !  unaccountable  ?"  said  Grafton. 

"  Yes,  perfectly  beyond  all  power  on  my  part  to  understand," 
said  Blanche.     "  A  few  years  since,  you  left  us  in  Louisiana  for  a 


A    TALE    OF    SOUTHERN    LIFE.  289 

residence  in  Virginia,  The  gallant  speeches  you,  from  time  to 
time,  made  me,  I  came  to  regard  as  unmeaning  compliments. 
But  I  thought  we  were  at  least  friends,  and  that  we  might  have 
some  place  in  your  remembrance.  Long  years  have  passed  away, 
and  though,  at  times  I  believe,  you  inquired  for  my  sister,  Mrs 
Burns,  not  one  word  have  you  deigned  for  others  of  the  family, 
who  had  regarded  you  with,  at  least  equal  interest." 

"  Miss  Lefort,  you  surprise  me,"  said  Grafton.  "  Do  you  not 
know  the  cause  of  that  protracted  silence  ?  Are  you  not  aware 
of  the  bitter  disappointments  which  I  have  been  forced  to 
suffer?" 

"  I  pray  you  tell  me  to  what  do  you  refer,"  said  Blanche.  "  I 
ask  no  confidence,  but  reveal  to  me,  Mr.  Grafton,  how,  if  in  any 
way,  I  am  connected  with  it  ?" 

"  Miss  Lefort,  has  not  your  father  informed  you  that  years  since 
— no — will  you  have  the  kindness  to  read  these  letters,  and  then 
ask  me,  what  connection  you  have  with  an  event  that  has  embit- 
tered my  whole  existence?" 

Charles  now  handed  Blanche  the  letter  he  had  written  her 
father,  which  had  been  inclosed  with  the  reply  and  forwarded  to 
him.  The  beautiful  hand  of  Blanche  trembled  like  an  aspen,  and 
her  bosom  heaved  with  violent  emotion,  as  she  slowly  and  delibe- 
rately perused  the  letters  before  her.  "  Can  it  be !  oh,  can  it  be !" 
she  exclaimed,  as  her  large  blue  eyes  were  raised,  "  that  my  dear 
sainted  mother  knew  of  these  transactions !  I,  who  had  made  her 
my  confidant,  who  had  poured  into  her  warm,  affectionate  bosom 
the  bitter  story  of  my  anguished  heart — oh !  I  will  not,  cannot 
believe  that  she  could  have  known  the  existence  of  these  letters. 
And  my  father,  whom  I  have  so  fondly  loved,  how  could  he  have 
received  and  replied  to  a  letter,  which  involved  my  whole  happi- 
ness, nay,  almost  life  itself,  and  have  not  said  a  word  to  her,  who 
would  have  died  to  save  him  ?     Permit  me,  Mr.  Grafton,  to  seek 

13 


290  woman's   faith. 

for  a  time  the  privacy  of  my  chamber,  for  I  have  not,  this  momen^ 
the  power  of  controlling  my  feelings." 

Lefort  had  heard  the  last  remark,  and  was  about  to  follow 
Blanche,  when  she  said :  "  Even  you,  dear  father,  will  excuse  me, 
if  I  ask  the  favor  of  exclusion  from  every  eye,  but  that  of 
Heaven." 

"  Now  tell  me,  Mr.  Grafton,  what  disclosures  have  you  made 
that  has  occasioned  such  agitation  in  my  daughter,"  said  Mr. 
Lefort.  "  Have  you  had  news  from  America  ?  Those  letters,  they 
have  the  postmark  of  Louisiana.  Mon  Dieu  !  Mon  Dieu  !  some 
affictive  news  from  William  Burns." 

"Pardon  me,  Mr.  Lefort,  I  have  none  but  good  news  from 
America,"  said  Grafton.  "  These  are  old  letters.  I  felt  obliged  to 
exhibit  thtoa  to  your  daughter,  to  account  for  my  conduct.'- 


A    TALB     OF    SOUTHERN     LIFE.  291 


CHAPTER    LX. 

Conflicting  now  were  the  emotions,  which  violently  stirred 
the  heart  of  Blanche.  Again  and  again,  in  the  secrecy  of  her 
own  reflections,  had  she  imputed  to  her  lover  a  cruel  frivolity,  a 
trifling  with  her  feelings,  deeply  degrading  to  him  in  her  own 
estimation.  And  my  mother,  though  a  most  sensitive  pride  had 
closed  hfiT  lips,  must  have  looked  upon  the  conduct  of  Charles  as 
trifling,  and  derogatory  to  the  character  of  a  man  of  honor.  How 
bitter,  too,  have  been  the  ill-concealed  expressions  of  animosity, 
which  have  at  times  been  larking  upon  the  lips  of  Louise.  And 
until  William  met  him  at  Washington,  even  the  friendship  which 
he  had  manifested,  had  cooled  into  indifierence.  I  now  see 
through  the  mystery  of  that  remark  of  his  on  his  return  from  Con- 
gress, which  I  overheard  him  making  to  Louise,  "  that  Grafton's 
conduct  was  perfectly  inexplicable,  that  there  was  about  him  a 
nobility  of  soul,  a  warmth  and  wealth  of  friendship,  that  he  had 
never  seen  in  any  one,  and  though  he  was  flattered  and  caressed 
in  society,  and  highly  complimented,  as  a  most  successful  public 
speaker,  he  ever  seemed  a  disappointed  man,  and  any  allusion  of 
mine  to  our  family  would  darken  his  animated  countenance,  and 
nothing  would  rouse  him  from  deepest  depression."  And  when  1 
asked  him,  why  he  had  not  called  to  see  me,  the  sorrows  of  a  life- 
time seemed  rolled  upon  his  heart,  while  his  eloquent  tongue  in 
vain  essayed  to  give  utterance  to  his  feelings. 

Such  were  the  stirring  reflections  of  Blanche,  while  alone  she 
pondered  upon  the  disclosures  which  those  letters  opened  upon 
her  understanding.    But  we  must  return  to  her  father,  who  was 


293  woman's   faith. 

equally  astonished  by  the  letters  now  in  his  turn  offered  for  peru- 
sal. "  Am  I  dreaming  ?"  said  Lefort  to  himself.  "  This,"  looking  at 
the  reply  to  the  letter  of  Grafton,  "seems to  be  my  handwriting, 
and  yet  till  now  I  never  saw  the  letter,  calling  for  such  an  answer  1 
Oh,  it  is  a  vile  forgery,  and  who  could  have  perpetrated  so  foul  a 
fraud!  What  object,  what  motive,  what  opportunity  could  any 
one  have  had  for  the  accomplishment  of  so  infamous  an  act! 
How  much  talent.  The  writer  seems  to  have  my  mode  of  thought 
and  expression  !  I  dare  not  suspect  any  one,  for  who  could  have 
so  successfully  managed  this  stupendous  imposition,  but  one  who 
was  on  the  most  intimate  terms  with  myself  and  family. 

Amazement  and  wonder  had  taken  possession  of  the  mind  of 
Grafton.  "  Could  I  have  been  mistaken  ?  Again  and  again  with- 
out suspicion  of  its  genuineness  had  I  read  that  letter,  which 
struck  dead  all  my  hopes  and  prospects  of  happiness.  The  con- 
duct of  Burns  would  have  confirmed  me  in  the  gloomy  expectation, 
that  I  could  not  hope  for  the  favor  of  Blanche,  for  he  never  spoke 
of  her,  scarcely  alluded  to  her  or  her  father  during  our  constant 
and  intimate  intercourse  at  Washington.  Indeed,  there  was  a 
studied  effort  on  his  part,  apparently,  to  avoid  a  conversation  upon 
any  subject,  which  might  touch  upon  the  relations,  which  he 
must  have  known  existed  between  Blanche  and  myself." 

"Mr.  Grafton,"  said  Lefort,  "will  you  believe  me  when  I 
say  " 

"  Stay,  Mr.  Lefort,  could  you  suspect  that  I  would  doubt  your 
honor  or  your  truth.     But  in  what  a  mystery  are  we.  involved." 

"You  must  permit  me,  Mr.  Grafton,  to  assure  you,  that  this 
night,  for  the  first  time  in  my  life,  have  I  ever  seen  these  letters, 
or  suspected  even  that  they  had  existence.  I  am  as  completely  in 
the  dark  in  regard  to  this  whole  transaction  as  you  or  any  one 
possibly  can  be." 

"  I  have  no  doubt  of  it,"  said  Grafton.  "  Will  you  allow  me 
the  time,  sir,  where  there  can  be  no  mistake,  to  say,  that  from  the 


A    TALE    OF    SOUTHERN    LIFE.  293 

day  when  that  letter  was  written,  aye,  from  the  hour  of  my 
departure  from  Louisiana,  I  have  never,  for  one  moment,  ceased  to 
love  your  daughter  with  a  warmth  that  can  never  change.  Will 
you  permit  me  now  to  renew  the  request,  contained  in  that  letter, . 
that  I  may  try  to  win  the  hand  and  heart  of  the  incomparable 
Blanche  ?" 

"  The  partiality  you  have  expressed  for  my  daughter,"  said 
Lefort,  "  has  my  most  hearty  approval,  and  I  rejoice  that  there  can 
be  no  opportunity  for  evil  design  to  thwart  your  pui-poses.  But  I 
will  not  longer  suffer  dear  Blanche  to  rest  under  the  delusion 
that  I  could  ever  have  acted  the  part  which  she  must  have 
supposed.  You  will  please  excuse  me  for  a  few  moments,  that  I 
may  make  the  explanations,  with  which  she  ought  before  this  to 
have  been  made  acquainted." 

Lefort  hurried  to  the  apartment  of  his  daughter.  Blanche 
rushed  to  the  arms  of  her  father.  "Forgive  me,  those  expres- 
Bions,"  said  she,  "  which,  in  an  unguarded  moment,  and  in  the 
fullness  of  my  disappointment,  fell  from  my  lips.  I  doubt  not 
your  conduct,  though  to  me  inscrutable,  was  dictated  by  the  best 
and  purest  motives." 

"Dear  Blanche,"  said  her  father,  "I  have  nothing  to  forgive, 
and  no  forgiveness  to  ask  at  your  hands.  You  saw  these  letters 
before  they  ever  met  my  eye." 

"  Why  father,  what  do  you  mean  ?  Are  you  beside  yom^el^ 
that  you  can  say  that  the  letter  of  Charles  Grafton  was  sub- 
mitted to  me  before  you  replied  to  it." 

"  I  said  no  such  thing,  my  daughter.  I  never  saw  those  let- 
ters until  they  were  handed  me,  this  night,  by  Grafton.  No,  it 
was  a  most  wicked  conspiracy,  and  successfully  has  the  villainy 
been  accomplished." 

"  You  amaze  me,  father.  How  unpleasantly  are  we  placed ; 
while  we  are  obliged  to  disclose  to  him  the  falsehood  of  that  pro- 


294:  woman's  faith. 

ceeding.  I  really  know  not  how  to  escape  from  an  awkward 
explanation." 

"  The  noble  heart  of  Charles,"  said  her  father,  "  has  saved  you 
that  difficulty.  He  has  begged  me  to  permit  him  to  renew 
the  oft'er  made  in  that  letter." 

"And  what  did  you  tell  him,  father?" 

"  What  my  heart  prompted,"  said  Mr.  Lefort.  "  I  could  not 
wait  to  consult  with  you,  but  frankly  assured  him  that  his  propo- 
sals received  my  entire  approbation.  And  if  from  the  skillful  and 
successful  manner  with  which  you  conducted  the  affair  with  Car- 
neal,  I  may  augur  what  may  be  the  result  of  your  meeting 
with  Mr.  Grafton,  I  should  feel  but  slight  apprehension  for  the 
consequences  of  an  interview." 

"  That,  dear  father,  was  an  affair  of  the  head,  and  not  of  the 
heart.  But  we  must  not  longer  keep  Mr.  Grafton  waiting  your 
return." 


A     TALE     OF     SOUTHERN     LIFE.  295 


CHAPTER    LXI. 

Lefort  and  Blanche  now  returned  to  the  drawing-room, 
where  Grafton  was  intently  reflecting  upon  the  strange  events 
of  the  past,  attempting  to  unravel  the  tangled  web,  which  mis- 
chief had  woven  so  artfully.  The  long,  dreary  night  of  the  past, 
even  when  the  hour  seemed  darkest  and  dreariest,  was  now 
breaking  away  in  the  dawning  of  the  morning,  when  the  mists  of 
treachery  and  falsehood  were  to  flee  away  before  the  bright  sun- 
light of  tnith.  The  fears,  the  griefs  of  the  past  were  all  swal- 
lowed up  in  the  hopes  and  joys  of  the  present.  Doubt  and 
apprehension  were  banished  from  his  mind,  and  his  clear,  bright 
intellect  saw  in  the  open,  generous  reply  of  Mr.  Lefort,  in  the 
frank  and  fearless  demeanor  of  Blanche,  that  the  encouragement 
she  had  years  ago  given  him  in  Louisiana,  was  the  ofispring  of  a 
regard,  which  time  and  circumstance  had  only  served  to  ripen. 
A  happiness,  which  for  years  had  been  a  stranger  to  his  bosom 
now  lighted  up  his  handsome  features  with  an  expression,  which, 
to  one  heart  at  least,  was  inexpressibly  beautiful.  Mr.  Lefort  pur- 
posely, and  before  a  word  was  exchanged  between  these  sorely 
tried  lovers,  had  sought  his  own  apartment. 

"  Oh !  how  am  I  repaid,  dear  Blanche,  for  the  agony  of  years, 
by  the  joy  with  which  I  read  your  permission,  to  tell  you  of  my 
love.  Bitter  as  was  the  disappointment,  which  fell  upon  my 
heart,  when  I  received  the  inclosure,  which  you  have  just  read, 
never  did  I  cease  to  regard  you  with  the  deepest  interest.  And 
when  I  learned  that  you  were  not,  as  that  horrid  letter  intimated, 
another's,  my  heart  would  look  with  houe  to  the  future.    May 


296  woman's    faith. 

I  not  now,  dear  Blanche,  claim  the  fulfillment  of  the  half  expressed 
promise  you  gave  me,  when  I  bade  you  adieu  at  Oak  Lawn  ?" 

"  I  will  be  as  frank  as  your  iiffection  and  constancy  merits. 
More  than  a  half  promise  did  I  give  you  years  since  in  Louisiana. 
There  was  then  no  coquetry  in  my  heart,  nor  did  I  intend  that  it 
should  appear  in  my  manner.  Your  love  was  then,  and  is  now, 
fully  reciprocated.     I  am,  and  will  be  yours  for  ever." 

Hours  flew  away  on  golden  wing,  while  Charles  and  Blanche 
dwelt  upon  the  incidents  of  the  past.  The  subject  which  most 
deeply  interested  her  was  the  successful  result  of  his  favorite  project 
with  his  slaves,  which  he  had  removed  from  Louisiana,  atid  who 
•were  now  happy,  contented,  and  prosperous  in  their  various  avo- 
cations. The  heart  of  Charles  throbbed  with  emotion  as  he 
listened  to  the  account  which  Blanche  gave  him  of  the  terrible 
pestilence  which  visited  the  neighborhood  of  Oak  Lawn,  an 
account  of  which  we  have  attempted  to  lay  before  our  readers. 
But  the  relation  which  was  most  interesting  to  him,  which  was 
the  key-note  in  all  that  music  of  the  soul,  was  that  of  the  aflfair 
between  hereelf  and  Mr.  Carneal. 

"  I  would  not  have  mentioned  this,"  said  Blanche,  "  had  it  been 
known  only  to  Mr.  Carneal  and  myself ;  for  I  think  it  is  a  secret 
which  honor  confides  to  the  keeping  of  a  lady.  But  with  us  there 
should  be  no  concealment,  and  I  preferred  you  should  learn  what- 
ever might  probably  interest  you,  from  myself." 

"  How  did  you  refuse  him  f '  said  Grafton,  "  and  still  retain  his 
friendship.  The  deep  interests  of  your  father  and  brother,  appa- 
rently involved  in  your  management  of  this  affair,  I  should  have 
supposed,  would  have  induced  a  different  termination." 

"Had  I  consulted  my  own  feelings  only,"  said  Blanche,  "so 
vital  to  the  happiness  of  my  father's  future  seemed  my  acceptance 
of  Mr.  Carneal,  I  might  have  yielded  my  assent.  But  do  not  be 
vain,"  she  laughingly  remarked — "a  certain  gentleman  in  Virginia 
had  run  away  with  my  heart,  and   honesty  bade  me  tell   Mr. 


A    TALE    OF    8  0UTHEK:N    LIFE.  29Y 

Carneal,  when  he  asked  for  it,  that  I  had  none  to  give  him.  Like 
a  sensible  man,  he  accepted  the  excuse  ofifered  for  declining  his 
liberal  proposition,  and  in  return  for  so  frank  a  disclosure,  he  has 
r>romised  me  unceasing  friendship." 


13* 


298  vWOMAn'b  faith. 


CHAPTER    LXII. 

"  I  CAN  scarcely  realize,"  said  Blanche,  "  the  truth  of  the  pres- 
ent scene.  I  have  almost  feared,  dear  Charles,  that  I  shall  awa!ke 
from  the  joy  of  this  present  hour,  and  find  that  I  have  been  in  a 
land  of  delightful  dreams." 

"  I  had  little  hope,"  responded  Charles  Grafton,  "  that  when  I 
was  offered  the  mission  to  France  by  our  President,  that  it  was  to 
be  to  me  a  source  of  such  unmingled  joy.  At  first,  I  thought  of 
declining  it,  as  my  friends  wished  me  not  to  diverge  from  the 
path  of  political  life,  in  which  they  were  kind  enough  to  say  I 
was  somewhat  successful." 

"Oh!  the  same  angel  voice  whispered  to  your  ear,"  said 
Blanche,  "  which  dispelled  all  my  forebodings  upon  leaving  C6te 
Blanche,  and  assured  me  that  here  I  should  find  that  happiness, 
which  had  so  long  been  a  stranger  to  my  heart." 

"  I  fain  would  believe  it,  Blanche,  for  although  the  hope  of  win- 
ing your  love,  and  calling  you  my  own,  had  long  since  ceased  to 
have  a  lodgment  in  my  heart,  when  your  brother-in-law,  Mr. 
Bums,  told  me  that  you  and  your  father  were  to  be  in  Paris,  some 
mysterious  voice  whispered  to  my  stricken  spirit,  that  we  should 
meet,  that  some  explanation  of  that  cruel  letter  would  take  place, 
and  yet  I  scarcely  dared  to  hope,  so  sudden,  so  violent,  and  unex- 
pected had  been  the  blow  which  had  prostrated  in  the  dust  all  my 
hopes  of  that  bliss,  which  you  had  permitted  me  to  anticipate 
when  I  left  you  in  Louisiana." 

"  K  the  disappointment  was  so  severe,"  said  Blanche, "  I  am  sur- 
prised that  you  should  have  noade  no  further  inouiries  concerning 


A     TALE     OF     SOUTHERN     LIFE.  299 

me.  ■  You  saw  William  Burns  daily,  were  upon  terms  of  the  most 
intimate  footing ;  it  seems  strange  to  me  that  you  never  have 
alluded  to  the  subject." 

"  Pride,  dear  Blanche,  shut  my  lips.  On  more  than  one  occas- 
ion I  was  about  to  speak  to  Bums  of  you,  but  whenever  I 
approached  that  sentiment,  which  was  ever  uppermost  in  my 
thoughts,  he  seemed  to  me  to  put  on  a  cool  reserve  that  at  once 
stifled  all  inquiry." 

"  William  and  yourself,"  replied  Blanche,  "  both  unconsciously 
were  influenced  by  the  same  feeling.  I  knew,  without  his  telling 
me,  that  he  felt  a  deep  resentment  at  one  time,  at  what  he  considered 
trifling,  upon  your  part,  with  the  affections  of  a  beloved  sister. 
And  he  would  conceal  ffom ,  you  a  secret,  which  I  had  permitted 
no  one  to  know  from  my  lips,  whatever  they  might  suspect  from 
the  effect  which  it  was  producing  upon  my  spirits  and  conduct." 

"  We  are  both  now  satisfied  that  with  us  there  was  no  wrong, 
no  want  of  affection,  or  interest,"  said  Charles,  "  but,  dear  Blanche, 
there  are  in  my  mind  some  suspicions,  which  awaken  most  painful 
reflections,  and  as  discussion  can  now  avail  nothing,  or  tend  to  any 
useful  result,  I  hope  we  may  never  allude  again  to  this  subject. 
Let  me  say,  however,  although  I  hardly  consider  it  necessary,  that 
so  far  as  yourself  or  family  are  concerned,  I  have  no  possible 
cause  for  complaint,  and  know  that  one  and  all  have  been  actuated 
by  a  high  sense  of  honor  and  principle." 

"  I  agree  with  you  Charles.  We  do  not  doubt  the  truth  and 
constancy  of  each  other.  Other  agencies  have  worked  our  disap- 
pointments and  trials,  and  as  they  have  all  eventuated  for  good,  we 
will  not  sadden  the  present  by  dwelling  upon  the  past." 

Charles  Grafton  had  most  unwillingly  discovered  the  true 
source  of  the  troubles  which  had  fallen  upon  the  pathway  of 
Blanche  and  himself.  He  had  learned  from  the  lips  of  one  he 
loved,  of  the  almost  complete  seclusion  from  society,  which  she 
had  maintained,  when  she  learned  the  false,  yet  fatal  information 


WK)  WOMANS     FAITH. 

that  he  was  affianced  to  another.  She  had  unfolded  to  him  the 
secrets  of  her  soul  with  a  franlcness  and  fullness  that  her  maidenly 
modesty  would  not  permit  her  to  employ,  even  when  confiding  to 
the  afiectionate  and  sympathizinjw  heart  of  her  mother,  the  grief, 
that  was  planting  her  pillow  with  thorns,  and  blighting  the  bloom, 
which  rosy  health  had  painted  upon  her  cheek.  From  her  he  had 
learned  that  so  deep,  so  abiding  was  her  melancholy,  that  had  not 
heaven  opened  a  door  for  her  to  occupations,  which  tasked  all  the 
energies  of  her  mind,  and  of  her  physical  frame,  and  at  the  same 
time  called  for  the  exercise  of  all  her  sympathy,  had  she  not  been 
incessantly  engaged  in  alleviating  the  distress,  and  soothing  the 
sorrows  of  others,  her  own  health  of  body  and  of  mind,  would,  by 
her  disappointment,  have  been  prostrated  beyond  all  power  of 
recovery. 

And  mine,  said  he  to  himself,  was  a  similar  grief,  and  palliated 
and  concealed  by  the  same  devices — incessant  occupation  of 
the  mind,  placing  myself  in  such  situations,  that  defeat  and  dis- 
grace must  follow  my  efibrts,  if  for  a  moment  I  yielded  to  the 
despondency  occasioned  by  the  frustration  of  hopes,  most  dear 
and  cherished.  Hers,  however,  were  employments,  demanding 
self-sacrifices,  with  no  voice  of  loud  acclaim  speaking  to  her  heart, 
and  gratifying  an  innate  principle  of  ambition ;  and  yet  who  can 
say  that  the  sweet  whispers  of  an  approving  conscience  did  not 
bring  a  far  higher  satisfaction,  than  the  wild,  tumultuous  plaudits 
of  those,  who  may  for  a  moment  be  charmed  and  excited  by  a 
display  of  eloquence. 

How  admirably  adapted,  however,  were  these  duties  and  trials 
for  the  development  of  the  strength  of  character,  and  the  growth 
of  lofty,  elevated,  and  generous  principles.  Had  Blanche  accepted 
the  offered  heart,  or  permitted  an  expression  of  the  love  which  so 
warmly  glowed  in  my  bosom,  ere  I  left  her  home  in  Louisiana, 
Low  different  would  have  been  the  position  which  I  should  occupy 
in  life.    I  should,  in  all  probablity,  have  sought  ease  and  pleasure 


A   TALE     OF     SOUTHERN     LIFE.  301 

in  tne  calm,  quiet  life  of  a  planter,  unaffected  by  the  promises 
held  out  by  political  life,  regardless  of  the  distinction  which  waits 
upon  toil  and  exertion  in  those  walks  of  life,  so  adapted  to  attract 
the  admiration  and  applause  of  the  world. 

And  how  has  the  character  of  Blanche  been  matured  and  beau- 
tified by  the  severe  discipline  and  training  to  which  she  has  been 
subjected.  What  useful  lessons  has  she  learned.  What  varied 
conditions  of  human  existence  has  she  witnessed,  and  as  her  own 
bruised  spirit  has  been  healed  by  the  miseries  which  she  has  seen 
and  remedied,  she  has  exemplified  the  truth  of  the  sentiment  of 
the  poet : 

"  Taught  by  that  Power  which  pities  me, 
I  learn  to  pity  them." 

Such  are  "  the  uses  of  adversity,"  such  are  the  wise  and  salu- 
tary inculcations  of  the  stern  and  hard  trials  to  which  humanity 
is  subjected,  that  it  may  be  fitted  for  the  discharge  of  the  high 
duties  imposed  upon  it  here,  and  for  a  happier  and  more  blessed 
condition,  when  "  this  mortal  shall  put  on  immortality." 


803  woican'b    faith. 


CHAPTER    LXIII. 

Day  after  day  succeeded  each  other,  and  the  excitement  with 
the  populace  of  Paris  hourly  increased.  The  season  for  compro- 
mise, for  submission  even,  on  the  part  of  the  king  of  France,  had 
gone  by.  Nothing  but  an  abdication  would  satisfy  the  leaders  of 
the  revolutionary  party,  and  the  government  of  Charles  X. 
was  overthrown.  The  House  of  Bourbon  had  lost  all  prestige. 
Those  who  had  excited  and  fostered  the  rebellion,  knew  that  their 
only  safety  was  the  extinction  of  that  dynasty.  Grafton  soon  per- 
ceived that  some  time  would  elapse  before  a  regular  government 
would  be  established,  and  that  the  present  was  most  unpropitious 
for  accomplishing  the  purposes  of  his  mission  ;  any  further  delay 
was  useless,  and  he  accordingly  determined  upon  an  immediate 
departure  from  Paris. 

While  he  felt  the  futility  of  a  longer  stay,  for  himself,  he  consi- 
dered it  extremely  hazardous,  on  the  part  of  Mr.  Lefort,  to  remain 
longer  in  France.  He  was  known  to  be  an  especial  favorite  of 
Charles  X.,  and  from  early  association,  as  well  as  principle, 
to  be  in  favor  of  the  Bourbon  race.  In  the  excitement  of  men's 
passions,  full  of  suspicion,  and  doubtful  of  their  own  security,  they 
had  little  toleration  for  those  who  opposed  them. 

"  I  have  little  or  no  hope,  Mr.  Lefort,"  said  Grafton,  "  of  bene- 
ficial action  with  the  government  of  France,  in  my  present  capa- 
city, and  have  concluded  to  leave  soon  for  the  United  States.  It  « 
is  important  that  I  should  be  at  Washington  as  early  as  possible. 
Blanche  has  promised  to  fix  our  wedding-day  immediately  upon 
her  arrival  at  Oak  Lawn.     I  could  wish,  if  it  meets  your  approval, 


A    TALE    OF    SOUTHERN    LIFE.  303. 

lliat  we  set  out  at  once  for  London,  and  after  a  few  weeks'  stay 
there,  we  leave  for  Louisiana." 

"  Most  willingly  do  I  accede  to  your  wishes  in  this  respect," 
said  Lefort.  "  I  long  for  the  quiet  happiness  of  Oak  Lawn.  Would 
to  heaven  that  I  could  in  some  way  serve  the  interests  of  the 
unfortunate,  but  noble  Charles.  It  is  now  too  late.  The  friends 
of  the  Duke  of  Orleans,  and  from  their  wealth  and  intelligence 
they  are  all-powerful,  have  determined  upon  the  dethronement  of 
the  king,  and  the  accession  of  Louis  Philippe  to  power.  The 
struggle  is  not  yet  over ;  it  will  be  fierce  and  bloody,  and  prudence 
demands  that  we  should  bid  adieu  to  Paris." 

On  the  following  day,  Grafton  obtained  for  himself  and  Mr. 
Lefort  the  necessary  passports,  and  at  once  set  off  for  Havre,  that 
they  might  take  passage  for  England. 


304  woman's  faith. 


CHAPTER    LXIV, 

"  I  WILL  still  continue  some  account  of  pur  every-day  life,  the 
events  which  mark  it,  the  new  sights  which  greet  our  eyes,  and 
the  sounds  which  gratify  our  ears,  as  they  may  afford  you  relief 
or  pleasure  during  the  long  hours  of  evening,  when  the  gay  and 
charming  prattle  of  the  children  is  hushed  in  sweet  repose.  "We 
have  bid  a  final  adieu  to  Paris,  endeared  to  us  by  so  many  delight- 
ful associations.  How  desirable  would  life  be  here,  how  would  I 
urge  dear  father  to  return,  and  make  his  home  once  more  in  the 
land  of  his  nativity,  amidst  the  scenes  he  loves  so  well,  and  amongst 
a  peofple,  dear  to  him  beyond  expression,  were  it  not  for  the  singu- 
lar fickleness  of  its  whole  population.  Instability  is  written  upon 
all  its  institutions.  Insecurity  for  life  or  property  deprives  you  of 
all  prospect  of  permanent  peace.  The  gay  and  pleasure-loving 
Frenchman  throws  aside  the  weeds  of  woe  that  he  had  put  on  for 
those  who  had  fallen  during  the  revolution,  and  now  dances  at  th« 
fkUs  given  by  men  who  had  filled  Paris  with  mourning  in  the 
overthrow  of  the  latest  dynasty. 

"  But  for  these  constant  and  frightful  vicissitudes,  father  would 
decide  upon  an  abandonment  of  his  home  across  the  Atlantic. 
Here  are  his  old  confreres  in  the  cabinet  and  in  the  field,  men  with 
whom  he  battled  for  his  king,  and  whom  he  followed  in  a  long 
and  weary  exile,  when  the  clouds  of  adversity  hung  over  the 
fallen  fortunes  of  the  house  of  Bourbon. 

"They  prefer  a  residence  in  France,  even  amidst  the  greatest  dan- 
gers and  terrible  uncertainties,  and  father  says  it  sometimes  seems 
to  him  to  savor  of  cowardice  to  desert  the  cause  of  one  so  noble 


A    TALE     OF     SOUTHEKN     LIFE.  305 

and  generous  as  Charles  X.  iias  proved  himself  to  be.  And  then, 
he  replies,  that  he  has  but  a  few  more  years  to  give  to  any  cause, 
and  they  are  broken  by  disappointments  and  trials,  and  that  he  is 
little  fitted  for  times  which  require  not  only  stout  hearts,  but  the 
stout  and  vigorous  arm  of  manhood,  in  its  strength  and  manliness, 
to  withstand  the  revolutionary  spirit.  A  second  JEneas,  he  bids  a 
most  unwilling  farewell  to  the  hills  and  valleys  in  the  sight  of 
which  the  happiest  years  of  his  life  were  passed,  and  to  the  stream 
endeared  to  him  by  so  many  and  charming  associations,  upon  the 
banks  of  which  his  own  dwelling-place  reared  its  graceful  archi- 
tecture. He  has  gathered  up  with  pious  care  many  precious 
mementoes  of  his  native  land.  He  has  employed  the  cunning 
hand  of  the  most  celebrated  limner  to  throw  upon  the  canvass 
those  speaking  colors,  which  will  remind  him  of  scenes  so  precious 
to  his  heart. 

"  Oak  Lawn  will  be  decorated  with  those  life-like  pictures,  which 
will  almost  transport  one  from  its  quiet  retreat  to  the  busy  and  gay 
metropolis,  which  we  part  with  so  unwillingly,  and  the  marble 
bust  shall,  even  in  that  far  distant  land,  keep  alive  and  fresh  our 
gratitude  and  regard  for  the  noble,  generous,  but  unfortunate 
Charles  X. 

"  London. — We  have  decided  upon  a  short  stay  in  this  '  world 
in  miniature.'  And  I  am  not  a  little  rejoiced  that  we  at  last 
receive  some  rest  from  the  incessant  demands,  which  society,  for 
a  few  weeks  past,  has  made  upon  us.  It  almost  seems  a  contra- 
diction in  terms  to  speak  of  quiet  amidst  all  the  noise  and  bustle 
of  the  largest  city  in  the  world.  But  in  the  nice  snug  parlor  of 
our  pleasant  inn,  I  feel  as  secluded  and  as  private  as  if  seated 
beneath  the  branches  of  the  tall  magnolia,  whose  rich,  umbrageous 
foliage  now  shields  you  from  the  rays  of  a  burning  sun. 

"  I  should  make  too  large  a  demand  upon  your  time  and  patience, 
to  attempt  a  description  of  a  tithe  of  the  magnificent  sights,  which 
daily  delight  us  in  this  wonderful  city.     We  start  out  at  early 


306  woman's    faith. 

mom,  and  after  spending  a  day  most  delightfully,  we  come  home 
at  night,  feeling  we  have  accomplished  but  little,  in  viewing  the 
marvellous  exhibitions  of  the  wealth  and  genius  of  the  world's 
great  metropolis.  I  fear  you  will  think  me  devoid  of  all  romance, 
or  touched  with  a  feeling  of  pensiveness,  when  I  tell  you  that  no 
single  spot  has  interested  me  more  than  Westminster  Abbey.  The 
last  resting-place  of  so  much  talent  and  genius,  and  courage,  the 
philosopher,  the  poet,  the  moralist,  and  he  who  won  his  laurels 
upon  the  battle-field,  or  standing  on  the  deck  of  a  noble  frigate, 
warring  for  the  honor  of  the  flag  which  was  proudly  floating  in  the 
breeze.  What  a  commentary  upon  human  greatness.  He  who 
has  filled  the  world  with  his  renown,  now  occupies  a  narrow  spot 
in  this  great  congregation  of  the  dead. 

"We  left  London  yesterday,  with  an  agreeable  American  acquaint- 
ance, for  the  purpose  of  passing  a  day  or  two  at  Wynde  Cliff,  the 
spot,  you  recollect,  which  so  hospitably  received  us,  saddened, 
dispirited,  disheartened  exiles,  fleeing  from  home  and  country,  and 
friends,  for  the  single  reason  that  our  family  had  dared  to  be  loyal 
to  a  king,  seated  by  right  upon  the  throne  of  his  ancestors. 

"  How  sweetly  and  peacefully  flows  the  silver  Wye  through  fertile 
vales,  and  beautiful  meadows,  now  increasing  its  speed,  as  if  to 
join  the  Severn,  whose  wide  channel  is  bearing  its  darker 
waters  to  the  sea. 

"  Sad  yet  soothing  are  the  recollections,  which  to-day  make  me 
linger  around  this  cherished  residence. 

"  Here  I  first  learned  the  language  of  my  adopted  country,  study- 
ing the  definition  and  pronunciation  of  words,  with  my  sainted 
mother.  Here  my  mind  received  the  first  rudiments  of  education, 
and  first  began  to  revel  in  the  pleasure  so  entrancing,  afforded  by 
the  cultivation  of  music.  I  had  no  conception  of  the  beauty  of 
the  scenery.  From  the  hjlls  that  almost  hang  over  this  stream, 
you  have  a  most  commanding  view  of  the  beautiful  cottages,  that 
adorn   the  variegated  landscape.    The  recollection,  which  these 


A     TALE    OF     80UTHEEN     LIFE.  807 

scenes  awaken,  inspire  me  with  the  highest  pleasure,  subdued  and    * 
saddened  somewhat,  yet  bringing  up  before  my  mind,  the  form 
and  features  of  her,  whom  I  trust,  watches  over  us  from  her  abode 
in  heaven." 


808  woman's   faith 


CHAPTER     LXV. 

So  great  had  been  the  excitement,  which  had,  during  his  stay  in 
Paris,  constantly  disturbed  Lefort,  that  he  looked  back  with 
wistful  eyes  to  the  peace  and  happiness,  which  reigned  at  his 
home  beyond  the  sea.  His  fullest  hopes  and  anticipations  had 
been  realized  in  the  ample  redress,  which  the  king  had  made  him 
for  his  estate  that  had  been  confiscated.  Through  the  aid  of  an 
old  friend,  who  had  remained  in  Paris  during  all  its  commotions, 
contriving  to  steer  clear  of  all  embarrassment  in  every  change  of 
government,  he  had  been  enabled  to  obtain  those  highly-prized 
works  of  art,  which  had  once  embellished  his  home  upon  the 
Seine,  and  which  now  would  ornament  a  habitation,  for  ever  free 
from  the  ruthless  hands  of  unbridled  licentiousness. 

And  Charles  Grafton  was  willing,  just  now,  to  take  a  bird's-eye 
view  of  the  wonders  of  London.  For  him.  Oak  Lawn  upon  the 
Teche,  had  more  powerful  attractions,  than  the  grand,  old  massive 
memories,  which  so  cluster  about  the  Tower  upon  the  Thames. 
Gladly  did  he  adopt  the  suggestion  of  Mr.  Lefort,  to  spend  as 
little  time  as  possible  in  the  great  city  of  the  world. 

We  have  not  space  to  accompany  them  further  on  their  excur- 
sions sight-seeing,  or  to  dwell  upon  the  incidents  of  their  home- 
ward voyage.  Nor  shall  we  attempt  to  describe  those  feelings  of 
deep  excitement,  which  so  absorbed  their  hearts  and  minds,  as 
again  they  returned  to  the  adopted  land  of  Lefort 

Changed,  indeed,  were  the  circlimstances,  which  surrounded 
Lefort,  when,  years  ago,  he  had  come,  in  the  strength  of  manhood, 
to  reside  in  America.     There  was  still  the  same  old  noble  oak,  its 


A    TALE    OF    SOUTHERN     LIFE.  309 

deep  greet)  leaf  yet  uiit'ideJ ;  the  same  clear,  placid  stream  grace- 
fully wound  through  the  prairies  to  the  sea  ;  the  same  sweet  song 
from  the  swelling  throat  of  the  mocking-bird,  which  first  greeted 
his  arrival  at  Oak  Lawn,  now  welcomed  him  back  to  his  forest 
home.  But  there  was  one  dear,  secluded  spot,  over  which  a 
graceful  willow  was  bending  its  fragile  form,  meet  emblem  of  the 
stricken  spirit,  which  told  hira  that  she,  who  had  started  with 
him  upon  the  journey  of  life,  whose  sunny  smile  had  brightened 
its  morning,  and  whose  unflinching  fortitude  had  softened 
the  dark  shadows,  which  had  ominously  gathered  around  its 
noontide,  had  here  found  rest,  ere  those  shadows  had  been 
dispersed  in  the  bright  light  of  his  prosperity,  and  the  unmingled 
fruition  of  those  most  dear  to  him.  His  heart  was,  however 
cheered  in  the  confiding  trust  that  that  mind,  which  could  not 
perish,  unseen,  yet  present,  clothed  with  heavenly  vestments,  took 
in  all  the  joy  and  bliss,  vouchsafed  to  those,  who  once  more  met 
under  brightest  auspices  in  their  peaceful  home. 
How  delightful,  how  unexpected  was  that  reunion  I 
William  and  Louise  had  withheld  from  Lefort  and  Blanche  the 
information  that  Charles  Grafton  was  to  be  in  Paris ;  they,  in 
their  turn,  were  to  be  equally  surprised  in  seeing  him  now  at 
Oak  Lawn.  The  noble  nature  of  Blanche  would  not  suffer  the 
honor  of  her  lover  to  be  dimmed  for  a  moment  longer  in  the 
estimation  of  her  brother  and  sister.  Addressing  herself  to 
William  Burns,  she  said,  "  It  is  your  business,  from  your  vocation, 
to  unravel  difficult  questions,  and  once  did  you  save  the  life  of  an 
innocent  and  most  excellent  man,  falsely  accused,  by  discovering 
a  dark  plot,  dear  brother,  through  the  instrumentality  of  a  letter. 
Read  these  letters,  and  find  the  key  to  the  conduct  of  Charles, 
which,  to  you  and  Louise,  appeared  so  inscrutable."  She  handed 
the  papers,  which  had  so  astonished  herself  and  father  in  Paris, 
clearing  up  a  mystery  which  had  darkened  their  minds,  and 
resulted  in  the  promise,  on  the  part  of  Blanche,  that  the  con- 


810  woman's  faith. 

stancy  and  fidelity  of  Charles  should  be  rewarded  by  a  heart  most 
true  and  faithful,  and  one  to  him  prized  above  all  others. 

"Did  I  not  tell  you,  Louise,"  said  Burns,  "that  all  misunder- 
standing would  be  explained;  a  mystery,  which  we  could  not 
fathom,  Would  be  solved :  the  wickedness  of  some  dark  scheme  be 
exposed,  upon  the  meeting  of  Charles  and  Blanche?  Their 
mutual  silence  was,  to  my  mind,  proof  irresistible  of  their  deep 
interest  in  each  other." 

"  Oh,  you  men,"  replied  Louise,  "  wrapped  up  in  your  dignity 
and  pride,  would  suffer  a  martyr's  fate  ere  you  would  open  your 
mouths  for  an  explanation.  Months  and  months  had  you  and 
Charles  passed  in  most  familiar  intercourse,  your  hearts  burning 
with  curiosity ;  a  word  would  gratify  it,  and  yet  your  lips  are 
sealed.  With  minds  yearning  for  information,  which  might  be 
easily  supplied,  you  chose  to  remain  in  blissful  ignorance." 

"  Well,  if  our  reserve  has  accomplished  no  more  useful  purpose," 
said  Burns,  "  it  may  have  tended  to  train  and  discipline  character ; 
and  to  show,  that  though  the  course  of  true  love  may  not  run  smooth, 
yet  the  obstacles,  which,  for  the  time  impede  its  passage,  and 
ruffle  its  beautiful  surface,  will  only  serve  in  the  end  to  widen  the 
channel,  through  which  may  the  more  securely  flow  those  higher 
and  holier  emotions  and  principles,  which  make  us  happier  in  life, 
nor  leave  us  at  its  close." 

And  now  we  part  with  our  fair  readers,  inviting  them  to  the 
bridal  feast  at  Oak  Lawn,  and  leaving  to  their  own  more  vivid 
imaginations,  the  pleasing  task  of  putting  the  finishing  touch  to  a 
picture,  whose  lights  and  shades  we  have  presented  in  the  fore- 
going pagee. 

THE    END. 


J.'  G.  derby's  publications. 


A   BOOK   or   BABE   HUMOR! 
THE     WIDOW     BEDOTT     PAPERS 

BY  FBANGIS  M.    WHITCRER 

WITH    AN    INTRODUCTION    BY    AUCK    B.   NEAL. 

One  volume  12mo.,  with  8  spiriteil  illustrations  by  Ballas  and  Orr 
Price  SI  25. 

BXtraet  from  a  Letter  to  the  Author  by  the  lata  Joteph  O.  Neal 
"Our  readers  talk  of  nothing  else,  and  almost  despise  'Neal'  if  the  'Widow'  be  not 
there.  An  excellent  critic  in  these  matters,  said  to  me  the  other  day,  that  he  regarded 
them  as  the  best  Yankee  papers  yet  written,  and  such  is  indeed  the  general  sentiment. 
I  know,  for  instance  of  a  lady  who,  for  several  days  after  reading  oce  of  them,  was 
contunually,  and  often  at  moments  the  most  inopportune,  bursting  forth  into  fits  of  vielent 
|au{l  r,  and,  believe  me,  that  you,  gifted  with  such  powers,  ought  not  to  speak  disparage 
\aff     t  the  gift  which  thus  brings  wholesome  satire  home  to  every  reader." 


CONTENTS. 


Bezekiah  Bedott. 

The  Widow  Essays  Poetry. 

Widow  Jenkins'  Animosity. 

Mr.  Crane  Walks  in. 

The  Widow  Discourses  of  Pumpkins. 

The  Widow  Loses  her  Beau. 

Mr.  Crane  about  to  Propose. 

Mr.  Crane  Walks  out. 

The  Widow  "  Sets  her  Cap." 

The  Widow  Resolves  to  leave  Wiggletown. 

The  Widow  Trades  with  a  Pedlar. 

""he  Widow  and  Aunt  Maguire  Discourse  on 

Various  Topics. 
The  Widow  having  Heard  that  Elder  Snlfiles 

Is  Sick,  Writes  to  him. 
The  Widow  Resorts  to  Elder  Sniffles  for 

Religious  Instruction. 
The  Widow  concludes  to  Publish. 
The  Widow  Prepares  to  Receive  Elder  Snif- 

tes  on  Thanksgiviug-Day. 
Vhe  Widow  Retires  to  a  Grove  in  the  rear 
.    of  Elder  Sniffles'  House. 


The  Widow  Writes  to  her  Daughter,  Ms. 

Jupiter  Smith. 
The  Rev.  Mrs.  Sniffles  Abroad. 
The  Rev.  Mrs.  Sniffles  at  Home. 
The  Rev.  Mrs.  Sniffles  Expresses  her  Senti- 
ments in  Regard  to  the  Parsonage. 
Aunt  Maguire's  Experience. 
Aunt  Maguire's  Description  of  the  Donation 

Party. 
Aunt  Maguire  Treats  of  the  Contemplated 

Sewing  Society  at  Scrabble  Hill. 
Aunt   Maguire  Continues  her  Account  ofi 

the  Sewing  Society. 
Aunt  aiaguire's  Visit  to  Slabtown. 
Visit  to  Slabtown  Continued. 
Mrs.  Maguire's  Account  of  Deacon  Whip* 

pie. 
Mrs.  Mudlaw's    Recipe  -for  Potatoe    Piul* 

ding. 
Morning  Oalls;  or,  Every  Body's  Partloolar 
r  Friend. 


J.  c.  derby's  publications. 


"n  IS  A  LOVE  TALE  OF  TEE  MOST  ENTEANCING  KIND." 

Boston  Daily  Traveller. 

*WHO  IS  THE  AUTHOEI    WE  GUESS  A  LADY."-i^.  T.  Life  IlMutrated. 


ISORA'S      CHILD. 

1  large  12mo.  volume.    Price  $1  25. 

"It  Is  one  of  those  few  books  of  its  class  ^at  we  have  read  quite  through — for  we  found 
Jt  to  have  the  requisites  of  a  good  book,  namely,  the  power  of  entertaining  the  reader  to 
the  end  of  the  volume.  The  story  is  not  complex,  but  is  naturally  told ;  the  characters 
•re  drawn  with  sharp  delineation  and  the  dialogue  is  spirited.  It  is  something  to  add,  in 
ihe  present  deluge  of  bad  books  with  pleasant  names,  both  the  morals  and  '  tlie  moral'  of 
tne  work  are  unexceptionable.  It  is  understood  to  be  the  production  of  a  lady  whose 
name  is  not  unknown  to  the  reading  public  ;  and  we  congratulate  ^er  on  the  increase  of 
reputation  which  '  Isoba's  Child  '  will  bring  her  when  her  present  incognito  shall  be 
removed." — Burlington  (Vt.)  SentineL 

"  This  book  starts  off  with  its  chapter  first,  and  introduces  the  reader  at  once  to  the 
heroes  and  incidents  of  the  really  charming  story.  He  will  speedily  find  himself  interested 
AS  well  by  the  graceful  style  and  the  skill  with  which  the  different  scenes  are  arranged, 
as  by  the  beauty  of  the  two  principal  characters,  and  the  lessons  of  loving  faith,  hope,  and 
patience,  which  will  meet  him  at  the  turning  of  almost  every  leaf.  This  is  one  of  the  best 
^  productions  of  its  kind  that  has  been  issued  this  season,  and  promises  to  meet  With 
warm  approval  and  abundant  success." — Detroit  Daily  Democrat. 

"  Another  anonymous  novel,  and  a  successful  one.  There  is  more  boldness  and  origi- 
nality both  in  its  conception  and  in  its  execution  than  in  almost  any  work  of  fiction  we 
have  lately  re&d.  Its  characters  are  few,  well  delineated,  and  consistently  managed, 
.liere  is  no  crowding  and  consequent  confusion  among  the  dramatis  persona.  There 
ire  two  heroines,  however.  Flora  and  Cora,  both  bewitching  creatures,  and,  what  if 
jetter,  noble,  true-hearted  women,  especially  the  former,  Isora's  child — the  dark-eyed  and 
,\issionate,  but  sensitive,  tender,  and  loving  daughter  of  Italy.  The  work  will  make  it* 
Bark.  Who  is  the  author?  We  guess  a  lady,  and  that  this  is  her  first  book." — Weekly 
Li/'e  lUustrated. 

"Its  incidents  are  novel  and  effectively  managed;  and  its  style  possesses  both  earnest 
vigor  and  depth  of  pathos,  relieved  by  occasional  flashes  of  a  pleasing  and  genial  humor. 
Among  the  crowd  of  trashy  publications  now  issued  from  the  press,  a  work  as  true  to 
suture,  and  as  elevated  and  just  in  its  conceptions  of  the  purposes  of  life,  as  this  is,  is  all 
tlie  more  welcome  because  it  is  so  rare.  We  have  no  doubt  it  will  be  as  popular  as  it  is 
interesting.^' — Albany  Evening  Journal. 

"  We  have  seldom  perused  a  work  of  fiction  that  gave  us  more  real  pleasure  than 
this.  From  first  to  last  page,  it  enchains  the  attention,  and  carries  your  sympathies 
along  with  the  fortunes  of  the  heroine.  The  descriptive  powers  of  the  unknown  authoress 
are  of  the  loftiest  order,  and  caiiDot  fall  of  placing  her  in  the  first  ranks  of  authorship.'* 
—CindnnaU  Daily  Sun. 

"  A  story  which  perpetually  keeps  curiosity  on  the  alert,  and  as  perpetually  baffles  r, 
t»U  It  reaches  iU  d6noAment.U  certainly  a  good  one."— .B«#a^  Oomm«roM  Adc^rUnr. 


*~» 


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